


Killian Meets Modernity

by SnappleApple11



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Babysitting, Blogging, Boats and Ships, Books, Cell Phones, Cookies, Dragons, F/M, Family, Fast Food, Fertility Issues, Fireworks, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Fourth of July, Gyms, Handcuffs, Humor, Internet, Movie Night, PWP without Porn, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Scrabble, Sex Toys, Smut, Starbucks, Writing, Yoga
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 11:20:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 43,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3445217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnappleApple11/pseuds/SnappleApple11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally on FFN. Moved for smut. Because explaining the 21st century to a 300-year-old pirate is entirely too entertaining a concept to pass up. Capt. Swan et al. One shots chronicling Killian's encounters with modernity. Mostly Captain Swan but will also include other characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Grease Trap

**Author's Note:**

> Occurs in semi-canon/semi-altered universe where Emma and Killian can cross the town line without consequence. un-beta'd

“Swan, what did you say this behemoth was called?”

“It’s basically just a hamburger, like the ones at Granny’s, but a lot greasier. Try it. I think you might like it.”

It was Saturday night, and Emma had taken advantage of the rare quiet moment that came in the aftermath of defeating a villain or stopping another curse, to introduce Killian to an aspect of her world not available within the confines of Storybrooke; Fast food. 

“You like the French fries at Granny’s, I just thought you should have the total fast food experience.”

Emma watched her pirate stare at the edible heart attack in front of him curiously and tried not to let her lips curl into a smile. There was something oddly fascinating about the sheer range of Killian’s reactions to parts of her world. At times he was more than eager to embrace the unfamiliar, like when it involved television or especially her lingerie. Other times, his wariness reminded her of a child poking vegetables on their dinner plate. 

Killian Jones could stand against dark magic and monsters literally single-handed, but faced with a double-decker bacon hamburger with all the trimmings, which was about half the size of his face, he was at a loss. As it was, he was holding the monster of a burger in his hand, turning it in every direction, searching for some weak point at which to attack the thing. The burger attacked first though, taking advantage of Killian’s hesitance to drip a line of grease down his hand and into his sleeve, forcing him to lift his elbow to prevent a further assault on his jacket. 

Even Emma would admit that it was probably a bit much for his first real burger outside of Granny’s, but the look of utter and adorable confusion on his face was worth it, as would be his delight if he would just try a bite of the damn thing. 

“I’ll be honest with you love, the food at Granny’s may not be entirely edible but it is certainly more approachable. With this… I’m not entirely sure where to begin. You’re certain no cutlery is required for something this large?”

The corner of Emma’s mouth turned upward. There was an obvious joke here about who should be asking who if they could handle something that large, but she didn’t want to be the one to actually say it so explicitly. “What’s the matter, Captain? Can’t handle it?” 

Blue eyes met green in playful challenge, and paused for only a beat. “Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it,” He said, eyes sparkling in memory of the last time he had spoken those words to her. Blue eyes held hers long enough to make her breathing quicken, and she found she didn’t want to leave his gaze, just wanted to drown in the ocean of his eyes. It shouldn’t have sent heat tumbling through her or made her toes curl (They were talking about a burger for crying out loud!), but it did and damn him for it because he knew. His growing smirk was proof enough of that. 

Then suddenly he was leaning back in his chair, and the spell he held over her was broken, leaving her blinking back to normal thought. “Because really, Swan, if you wanted to prove this meal was so incredible you should have gotten one for yourself too. It’s hardly motivating when your sandwich is, well, frankly its tiny.” He spoke almost flippantly, as if he hadn’t just been branding her with his eyes. 

Emma, however, had no regrets in ordering a classic single layer burger. They were far more manageable. She took a bite from her own burger, hoping it would quell the growing heat in her belly and maybe encourage Killian to try his meal instead of staring at it like it was possibly poisonous. 

“Maybe try smooshing it down a bit or something?” She offered, after swallowing a large bite of her burger. “Or if you really wanna cheat through it, you could take apart the layers and use a fork, but where’s the fun in that?”

Killian gave the burger another turn in his wrist, which was more awkward than anything else given his elbow was still level with his head. He seemed to be considering this stance on ‘cheating’, but continued to stare at the innocuous-looking meal as he questioned Emma further. 

“So if it’s a ‘ham’ burger than the meat must come from a pig, yes? Ham is still used to imply pork-based dishes in this realm, is it not?”

“Well, the bacon is from a pig, obviously, but that’s not on every burger. The actual hamburger part is beef.”

He snorted at that. “Well that’s just bloody misleading then. Why not simply call it a ‘beef’ burger instead? Why lie about the source of the meat?” Killian scoffed, and then turned his gaze towards Emma in horrified realization. “The cows of this realm aren’t diseased, are they Swan? Is that why they lie about the name?”

Emma had to stop herself from bursting out laughing. Instead, she settled for shoulder shaking, closed-mouthed giggles and forced breaths that threatened to break her.

She had no idea why it was so funny to her, just that it was. Something in her pirate’s concerns about the health of cows and sanitation of meat in a grimy fast food chain and people being lied to through the names of food was just plain funny. If this was how Killian Jones reacted to a burger, she couldn’t wait to show him Disney movies.

Killian’s blue eyes shifted from horror at the origins of his dinner to confusion over his Swan’s apparent amusement. 

“Killian, I think you’re gonna have a coronary before you catch mad cow from this burger.” Her words were forced passed still trembling lips and hiccupping shoulders. 

“Mad cow?”

“Never mind,” She said, finally catching her breath, “Just know that it’s not bologna and take a damn a bite.”

Killian shot her another heated look. “I’ll certainly take a bite, love,” His lips turned upward into a cheeky grin “Unless you’d rather my mouth was… elsewhere.” His eyes drifted lazily down her front, until they were practically boring a hole through the table that hid her lower half from his view, then they snapped up to hold her green eyes captive in invitation and challenge. 

Emma could feel the heat rising to her cheeks again. 

Trust Killian Jones to feel like he was on solid ground when innuendos were involved. She had long since realized that the comments were his way of maintaining control in situations he was unfamiliar with. He used his silver tongue as a weapon as often as he used his hook or sword and after several hundred years the comments had probably become something of a habit as much as a crutch for the man. 

All the same, Emma silently hoped he never learned about ‘that’s what she said’ jokes. 

His blue eyes flashed with heat, and promise, and later, and finally, finally, he took a bite from the monstrous burger. It was impossible to get a whole bite from a burger as big as the one Killian was eating, but he managed a mouthful of meat and bacon and cheese and grease that ran down his chin and got caught in the scruff of his beard. 

It was a complete and total mess of a meal, but watching his face light up with every bite like a Christmas tree (Another tradition she would have to introduce him to, along with hanging mistletoe…) would be worth the twenty or so napkins needed to clean him up. 

“This is bloody brilliant Swan!” He exclaimed through another mouthful. “We must bring some back with us. For your parents, and brother, and Henry! Yes, the lad would adore this! Has he had one? No matter, he’s getting one too.”

Emma didn’t bother trying to hide the smile that had plastered itself to her face, letting it shine in mutual enjoyment at Killian’s obvious delight. “Trust me, Henry’s had plenty of these in New York, and I kinda doubt Regina would want him having more of them. They’re not exactly health food.”

Killian polished off the remainder of the monstrous burger all too quickly, and insisted on buying several more of the double-decker giants to bring back to Storybrooke. Emma laughed and weakly protested that the burgers would be cold by the time they returned to town, but gave him some money for more anyway. She watched him bound off to the counter eagerly while she finished her burger with a bit more patience. 

Several other patrons were staring at the two of them as if they’d sprouted wings from their heads. It probably wasn’t everyday that any of them saw a grown man eat his first heart attack on a plate, so the odd looks were at least somewhat understandable. But Emma couldn’t find it in herself to care what any of them thought. She was here to share a delicious, if decidedly unhealthy, part of her world with the man who had given up his world for her. After everything he had been through in his long life, his current excitement was infectious and made her happy. Why wouldn’t she want that for him?


	2. Downward Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary Margaret introduces Emma to yoga, and Killian is more than happy to help her deal with the aches and pains that come with it. Smut with minor plot.
> 
> Please read and review, and message me with any prompts or ideas you think of for what modernities Killian should see!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except the textbooks my alma mater wouldn’t buy back from me after I graduated college.

Emma had never been one for yoga. She could understand why people liked it but the practice never held any real appeal or benefit for her. In her bail bonds days, any sort of exercise Emma did was to ensure she’d be ready catch a perp, and nowadays it was to ensure the defeat of any villain that came stomping around Storybrooke. Having the limberness of a yogi didn’t seem to fit into either of those categories, and she had simply ignored the practice entirely. But somehow Mary Margaret had managed to track down a yoga videotape in a town full of fairytale characters, and wanted to add it to her post-pregnancy fitness routine. 

And she wanted Emma to join her on this quest for flexibility. 

Emma didn’t have the heart to turn her down.

The pair had spent the next afternoon in Mary Margaret’s apartment dressed in leggings and t-shirts, following the movements of a tiny, innocuous, and yet almost grotesquely bendy, woman who insisted they “find their center”, and “let peace fill their mind”, while simultaneously working them to the bone and forcing them to fold their bodies into pretzels. Emma swore if the yoga instructor made them “chataranga” (whatever the hell that even meant) from downward dog into upward dog one more time she would break the damn videotape in half and hurl it straight into the wall. Although frankly, she didn’t think she’d be able to move her arms above her head any time soon, let alone do any hurling. 

By the end of the tape, both Mary Margaret and Emma were more than grateful for the chance to lie down and untangle their limbs. Emma’s muscles were groaning in complaint at the yoga-induced abuse, but she recognized it to be a similar ache to any other long workout. It was the kind of exhaustion that slowed a person for several hours but ultimately could be overcome with a little rest and food. 

Her limbs and joints, on the other hand, were another story. 

Mary Margaret imagined it to be the same feeling as being stretched on the rack in a medieval torture. Emma couldn’t be bothered to verbalize her agreement, and only nodded her head silently at her mother’s comparison. Emma’s limbs certainly felt like they had been pulled almost too far out of their sockets. It was as though they were made of over-stretched rubber bands and were desperate to recoil back into her joints, but slow to do so. The ache was unlike anything she was used to, and as much as Emma would have liked to stay on the floor of the apartment, prone and semi-lifeless, she knew she’d be more comfortable waiting out the pain in her own bed on the other side of town. 

So with a quick goodbye and strained promise to try another yoga session once they’d both recovered (Mary Margaret insisted that even through the new pains and aches, the practice was something she wanted to learn.), Emma set about pulling herself up from the floorboards. It took Emma about twice as long as normal to pull herself upright, make her way down the stairs, and outside to her yellow bug, but she was proud to say she made it in one piece, even if she did have to limp down the staircase. 

The drive back to the apartment she shared with Killian by the docks was a blissfully uneventful relief from the ache she was already feeling in her limbs. However, even with the rest, it somehow took Emma even longer to crawl out of her car and up the stairs to the apartment, her joints groaning in protest in time with the creaking floorboards beneath her feet. She had to stop once or twice to physically pull her legs up the flights of stairs to the apartment landing, all the while wishing she could just be settled on her couch already, curled around Killian with a blanket and a cup of hot chocolate. Maybe she could even convince him to watch a movie before she passed out from exhaustion?

Emma wasn’t sure she even had the energy to pull out her keys and open the door, but thankfully she didn’t have to worry about that. The door magically opened on it’s own to reveal Killian in a t-shirt and sweatpants (His ears must have been burning just by her thinking about him.). Emma loved Killian’s leather ensemble from his days aboard the Jolly Roger, but there was something about seeing him in such a casual outfit from her world that stole her breath just as easily. It shouldn’t have been possible for anyone to look that good in such drastically different outfits, although it definitely didn’t hurt that she knew he went commando under his sweatpants. 

Bright blue eyes flickered in happiness at her arrival before narrowing in worry at the sight of her deflated shoulders and slumped form. “Swan? Has some demon bested you? You look exhausted love.” He reached for her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, closing the door behind them as he ushered her into their apartment. 

Emma toed off her shoes and lazily draped one arm around his waist. She dropped her head onto his shoulder, taking in his scent and letting it wash over her in waves of calm. He must have just come from the shower, she decided. She could feel just a bit of extra heat and moisture clinging to the skin of his neck where it met her forehead. 

“Mary Margaret wanted to do yoga. It shouldn’t hurt this much. Why does yoga hurt this much anyway?” Emma knew she was mumbling and probably wasn’t making much sense to him, but she didn’t especially care right then. She just wanted Killian’s arm to stay wrapped around her in a warm cocoon and to sink into that heat. 

He ran the hand around her shoulder and down her arm, soothing her as she let out a sigh of pleasure, nuzzling further into his neck. It was then he seemed to notice just how tense she was.

“Bloody hell Emma, your shoulders are hard as stone. Lie down, I know just what you need.”

He moved her toward the couch, hand smoothing over her arm and shoulder in long strokes. Emma let herself be led, and let Killian direct her to lay face down on the sofa cushions.

“What are you planning, Jones? Because if it involves a blanket and an extended nap with you as my pillow, I’m all for it,” She asked, sleep starting to fill her voice as she arranged her arms to lay in front of her over the armrest of the couch. 

Killian chuckled, letting his fingers move to rub small circles at the base of her neck while he stood above her next to the sofa. “Not just yet, although I’ll certainly be remembering your fondness of using me as a pillow. Let me work out some of that tension in your shoulders. Trust me, you’ll not want to wake to that sort of ache in the morning.” 

“Is there another ache you’d rather I wake up with?” Blue eyes widened in surprise at her boldness then turned absolutely heated with a look that sent fire curling through her. Maybe she’d spent too long with Killian’s innuendos as a verbal background, but she’d noticed herself playing along with them more and more often since they’d started living together. 

Suddenly his simply standing over her next to the couch seemed more imposing then before. Confidence and heat seeped from every inch of him, from his bare feet to his smoldering grin, and Emma felt her breath quicken in anticipation. Emma knew exactly where this evening was headed now. If she let him, the shoulder rub Killian was offering her would be easily turned into a full body massage that could hopefully include a happy ending.

It’d be the perfect way to end an otherwise painful afternoon. 

“Now that, Swan, is an ache I’ll soon have you begging for. But first, I’d rather get you sorted.” Emma’s thighs clenched together at the promise his words held. Even when she was ready to offer herself up to him entirely, Killian Jones wanted to see to her needs first. Emma had learned quickly that Killian was an incredibly attentive lover, but the sheer extent of his devotion never ceased to amaze her and make her heart melt a little more. 

He swung one leg over her hips and leaned over her on his knees so close that she could feel the heat of him through their clothes. She had to fight down the urge to raise her hips just enough to actually feel him through his sweatpants. 

The hand he was still using to draw mindless patterns on her neck moved downward towards the center of her back, honing in on those areas that needed the most help but stopping short of applying any real pressure. He clicked his tongue in disapproval at the knotted muscles he found there. “Darling, I know you’re a tough lass but this sort of pain needs taking care of. Let me take care of it for you. Let me take this hurt from you.”

Her back ached so much that she didn’t need too much convincing. She pushed her back upwards to meet his hand, breathing out a ‘yes’ as he started to apply more pressure to the muscles surrounding her spine. Emma briefly wondered if he would use the fingers of his hand to find the little nooks and crannies between her muscles, nimbly releasing the tension coiled inside her bit by bit. She imagined that since he had offered her this massage he had probably picked up several tricks over the years for how to give a one-handed massage (Unless he was going to bring his hook into the mix? Now that would be interesting.). 

No matter what he did, Emma trusted him completely. 

As it turned out, Killian didn’t need his hook or even two hands worth of fingers to turn Emma into a needy pile of mush on the couch. He mostly used the heel of his palm and the stump of his left hand (When had he taken off his hook? Or had he never put it back on after his shower? Emma hadn’t really noticed before.). The appendages worked deep into the taut muscles on her back, up and down the length of her spine and along her shoulders, slowly but surely easing the tightness in her limbs. His movements were firm but never painful, and had her groaning in relief within minutes while her mind went fuzzy. 

She barely noticed when he moved his touch under her shirt, only that it felt infinitely better than before, especially when he grazed along the sides of her breasts several times, causing her breath to skip. As his hands forced the clothing of her shirt to ride up her body she felt it snag on something in the middle of her back. 

Her bra, she realized hazily, was in the way. 

Light laughter filled the air by her ear and Emma realized she must have spoken her thoughts aloud. “Yes Swan, your undergarment is in the way. Would you like me to remove it so I can continue?” The stump of his left arm continued it’s deep, languid strokes against her skin while his fingers played with the clasp of her underwear; ready to snap it open in a moment. 

“Yeah,” She breathed, a satisfied smile reaching her features as she felt the clasp release and his ministrations continue unhindered. 

Emma would have been content to fall asleep to the feeling of Killian touching her like this, but the way he kept her just aroused enough to stay awake, anticipating what he would do to her when the time came, was enough to keep her at least somewhat alert, even if her mind had long since gone hazy and blank in a daze of pure want. She lost track of time as he continued to maneuver his way across her skin, pushing and stroking and staying true to his promise to take away the pain in her muscles. Every so often his hands would venture away from the muscles around her spine, to her sensitive sides, the edges of her breasts, and very low on back side, skimming her clothed posterior, all the while keeping himself in constant contact with her bare skin. 

The shirt rode further up her back, and was joined by her opened bra, exposing her bare chest. Her nipples tightened as they rubbed against the rough fabric of the couch cushions. Emma moved her chest against the material to relieve the growing ache in her core. She soon felt his lips join his hand on her skin, suckling gently but firmly enough to leave a mark, and her own hands gripped the armrest to steady herself. Her breathing quickened in further want and she felt the ache in core grow even as the ache in her limbs lessened. 

Killian had barely touched her intimately but he already had her ready and more than needing to come, and he knew it, just like he always did. 

“There’s a good girl,” He whispered, “That’s feeling better already, isn’t it? Is there something else you’d like? Do you want me to take care of you down here too?” He slid his hand around her front and stroked one finger dangerously low over her bare stomach, lips roving over her neck and up to her ear as he spoke. “You know I can take such good care of you,” The finger moved down to her clothed center, just barely pushing into her through the fabric of her pants, and stroked her entrance lightly. 

“Fuck, yes.” Her hips moved on their own, leveraging against the couch underneath her to push against his fingers, trying to move them inside of her even through her leggings.

Laughter puffed against her ear at her desperation for release.

His fingers moved away from her core for only a moment to push under her leggings and slide into her panties. Her relieved breath quickly turned into a keening moan as two fingers drew several shallow strokes along the edge of her folds before sliding into her fully. She could feel the cold metal of his rings as he pushed his fingers into her up to his knuckles (He’d put his rings back on after his shower but not his hook? Another thing she hadn’t noticed before.). His left arm wrapped around her waist, holding her steady as his fingers began to move inside of her. He pumped his fingers slowly, dragging out her pleasure and watching her face eagerly as her eyelids fluttered.

“I love having you like this Emma, so wet and tight for me, so responsive.” His voice sent shivers straight to her center, working with his fingers to build her up higher towards that blissful peak. “You’re absolutely breath-taking, Swan. I could watch you chase your pleasure forever.” Emma needed him sooner than that. She needed him to send her over in the way only he knew how, but damn it her voice refused to work properly and she couldn’t tell him that. 

He added a third finger and kept his thumb on top of her clit the entire time, circling against the tiny nub at random intervals to send her higher towards her release, but never letting her fall over the edge. It was agony and paradise at once. 

“Killian,” Emma turned her head to lock eyes with him, finally finding her voice. “Please, I need…”

“As you wish, love.” With that he curled his fingers just right to stroke that one spot inside her that had her seeing stars and moaning loudly. Emma’s hands held the armrest in a vice grip as she came in long waves of ecstasy, the pleasure sweeping over her in the same languid strokes Killian had used before to soothe her aching muscles. Killian continued to stroke her through her orgasm with his fingers and words of praise, letting her down slowly until she came back from her high. 

When she returned to full awareness, it was to Killian’s lips kissing their way up her neck and his fingers leaving her center. “So beautiful. You’re always so beautiful when you come. I told you I’d get you sorted first, Swan.” He held his glistening fingers in front of her mouth and she opened her lips to take them in, tasting herself on him. Emma watched his eyes darken at the sight of her swirling her tongue around the digits. 

“Do you ache, love? Tell me where you ache and I’ll take care of it. Take care of you. Just say where.” Emma recognized the sheer need in his voice and couldn’t help the smirk that spread across her face, pleased to have broken his ironclad control. 

“You know where, pirate.” Her hips lifted against his obvious bulge and he ground against her deeply for a moment, leaving them both breathless. 

Emma watched with hooded eyes as Killian’s hand reached for her leggings, reluctantly leaning away from her body as he pulled the material down and off her legs. He tossed the clothing somewhere across the room along with her soaked panties before shoving his sweatpants down too, letting them hang low enough on his hips to reveal his hardened length. 

She kept her hands gripped against the armrest and lifted herself to her knees, raising her behind high enough so that Killian’s tip could brush against her entrance. His fingers swiped through the entrance of her folds, gathering the moisture there, and spread it across his member in several hard strokes. 

He guided himself inside her slowly, controlling the pace and stretching her in the most delicious way. Emma fought to keep from forcing her hips backwards to just take him to the hilt, knowing how good it would be at a slower pace. He was taking his time tonight, even through his obvious need for her. 

Once he was fully seated in her, Killian held still for a moment, taking in the feeling of her walls wrapped around him. But Emma needed him to move, to take her and send her over once more. 

Her breathy ‘please’ was half muffled by the cushions and half by the needy fog in her head. He seemed to hear her plea well enough, because in the next instant he started moving. His hips moved slowly and with a great deal of control, but his thrusts were long and hard, hitting deep inside her to build her back up to the top of that blissful cliff. 

Higher and higher she went, her moans growing louder as she drew closer. “That’s it darling,” Killian crooned in her ear, his voice sounding as wrecked as she felt. “Let me hear what I do to you. Come for me and let me catch you.”

His words always seemed to do the trick, triggering her release without fail. This time when she came, it was in the same languid waves, but it seemed to last even longer than before. Her walls clenched down on Killian’s length, earning Emma several tortured groans and curses from the man behind her. His thrusts grew frenzied as he found his own release soon after her, bringing her back to Earth after a time. 

Her breaths were quick and her heartbeat quicker still as she lay on the couch completely sated and spent. Killian lay over her, his body a warm blanket to fend off whatever chill may have entered the apartment. Both of his arms wrapped around her and he pulled himself from her core, lowering them both more fully onto the sofa. Emma sighed, content, when he nuzzled his nose against her neck, ready to sink into a blissful slumber. 

“Please tell me you’re going to do this ‘yoga’ again, Emma.”

“Why’s that?” She didn’t even turn toward him as she asked, too sated and content with where she was to be bothered to move from the sofa. 

“If it means another chance to worship your body like this, then your physical pains are a burden I am more than happy to bear.”

Emma smiled, feeling the pull of sleep on her mind. She didn’t have to tell him she’d already agreed to another yoga session with Mary Margaret. “It’s a deal, pirate.” And she drifted off.


	3. Wordplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have this head canon that because Killian is such a wordy/talkative/silver-tongued person he’d be really good at word-based games. So I have Henry introducing Killian to Scrabble, which he turns out to be insanely good at. 
> 
> This is basically third wheel/outsider perspective fluff. Just cause I’m curious also how Henry might possibly see Emma and Killian’s relationship and interactions from the outside looking in. 
> 
> Read and review, and tell me what modern wonder Killian should face next!

“Just how the hell are you so good at this game? It’s your first time playing, it’s not even fair.” 

“I’m known for my silver tongue, which as you’re well aware, Swan, has many talents.”

Henry was only half-listening to the exchange in front of him, more interested in the lettered tiles at his disposal. It wasn’t until he looked up from his set of tiles that he realized his mom was blushing and glaring daggers at the pirate, who held her gaze in delighted challenge, with his tongue running across his lip. 

Henry couldn’t help but feel like he’d missed something. 

He shook his head and tried to put it out of his mind. It was probably another inside joke they had. Knowing it’s meaning wouldn’t help Henry beat Killian at the game, and he so wanted to beat the pirate, because his mom was right. It just didn’t seem fair that Killian could be so good at something from their world that he’d never done before. 

When Henry had pulled Scrabble from the closet earlier that evening, he hadn’t thought too much about whether or not Killian would be any good at it. He’d just felt like playing, and the pirate wanted to learn. Then his mom had come back to the apartment from the Sheriff’s station, seen what they were about to start, and asked to join in. 

Back in New York, Emma and Henry played Scrabble all the time. Henry was growing into something of a wordsmith and Emma had to stop pretending to lose to her son when the points became too obviously one-sided in his favor. He had always been good with words. It was something Henry prided himself on. Unfortunately, he’d conveniently forgotten that Hook was as much of a wordsmith as Henry, if not more so. 

The pirate was absolutely destroying Emma in points, and had a noticeable lead on Henry. After being the Scrabble-master for so long Henry was starting to feel annoyed by the whole thing. 

It didn’t even seem like Killian was playing to win though, just playing words that had memories behind them. He was placing words in lucky spots and sending glances at either Emma or Henry, depending on whom the word was really meant for. So far he’d played words like ‘stalk’ (“You never forget your first”, He’d said to Emma. She’d chuckled and muttered “beanstalk” under her breath.), ‘hook’, and ‘cuff’. The look the pirate sent his mom after that last word was absolutely… something. Henry wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but he could hear his mom’s breathing quicken and got the distinct impression he wasn’t supposed to be seeing this. 

Henry had a lucky break by placing ‘boat’ with the ‘t’ on a triple word score (27 points). But when Killian’s turn had come again he’d placed ‘sail’ in front of it and managed to land the ‘s’ on the neighboring triple word score that also connected his ‘s’ to the end of Emma’s ‘laze’ (75 points.). 

Killian held a finger over ‘sailboat’ on the board, shot Henry a look, and asked “Tomorrow, lad?”

Emma sighed and shook her head. “I really shouldn’t be letting you steal boats, kid. Your mom is gonna kill me when she finds out I turned you into a small time crook.”

“Commandeering, Swan. It’s not stealing if we bring them back in working order. And it’s merely in the pursuit of knowledge and essential life skills. And to that point, should he successfully prevent the Queen from learning of our duplicitous activities it will be yet another skill he possesses. Much like learning a waltz for an unexpected ball, wouldn’t you agree, love?” Henry would have to have been blind not to notice the way Killian’s eyes were twinkling at Emma. Anyone could see the man absolutely adored his mom, but mostly Henry was just glad Emma seemed happy. 

The corner of his mom’s mouth turned upward, her eyes glazed in what Henry was sure was a private, but happy memory. “One ballroom dance that we had to sneak into isn’t enough to make it a life skill.” 

“Aye, but I’d be delighted to have another one anyway.”

She had smiled instead of responding, her hand reaching out to brush against his arm, before she turned her attention back to the game board. 

Several moves later Emma played ‘caps’ (a measly 8 points) and Killian had played ‘night’ in front of it on a double word score (32 points). Killian lowered his eyes at Emma and even though her answering sound was probably meant to be a laugh it came out as more of a snort. “We never did get that nightcap. Did we pirate?” She asked.

“I distinctly remember an unusual interruption.” They wore matching smirks and Henry knew without a doubt they were revisiting old memories through the game. 

Was this what dating was like for all grown ups, lots of inside jokes and blushing? Henry had noticed Regina definitely smiled a lot more when she was around Robin Hood, and he’d caught Mary Margaret and David sending each other little smiles and touches all the time, but Emma hadn’t been like that with Walsh in New York, and technically they’d dated for eight months. Then again, an evil flying monkey from Oz probably wasn’t the best example of dating for anyone to follow, no matter how decent a guy he seemed at first. Henry never had any reason to hate Walsh, but back then he’d been more tolerant of the guy than anything else. Not to mention the three of them had never really hung out together the way Killian did with them. 

Henry couldn’t help but think that the way his mom and Killian acted, the way he saw most of the happy couples of Storybrooke act, was what dating and relationships were supposed to look like. They each had shared experiences and memories that bound them together. They could be light and playful with each other. They were honest and open with each other. Henry knew all to well the history that went into the early stages of those relationships, but it all just seemed so easy once each pair fell into it. 

While Henry had been busy with his thoughts, Killian’s hand had moved to play with some of Emma’s hair at the base of her neck, rubbing the strands between his fingers and smiling softly at her. Then his hand had moved to the side of her neck and she had squirmed at the ticklish feeling. A hushed “Hook!” escaping her in reprimand as his eyes lit up in amusement. 

The rest of the game had passed in much the same way. Henry would hunt the depths of his brain for a word to trump Killian, like ‘guano’ (24 points), and ‘qi’ (31 points). Emma would scrape together something smaller in points that would actually expand the playable space and move the game forward, like ‘sweet’ (9 points) and ‘alter’ (8 points). Then Killian would blow them both out of the water with a word like ‘sailboat’ (75 points) and ‘qat’ (39 points. And what was a ‘qat’ anyway? It shouldn’t have mattered that it was in the dictionary if he didn’t know what it was.). Then the pirate would shoot a look or comment at Emma that had her either fidgeting or shooting words back at him, and Henry would get the distinct impression they were using the game as their own personal time machine down memory lane. 

In the end, Emma held a measly 91 points to Henry’s 176, while Killian had crushed them all with 233 points. 

Henry never considered himself to be a sore loser, but the point difference had taken a stab at his ego and he wanted to fix it. He adamantly told the pirate he wanted a rematch but Killian had just laughed and his mom told him they’d play another night if he really wanted his wordy vengeance. 

“Honestly, kid, you were getting a little cocky at Scrabble before this game. Think of it like a life lesson in humility. I got one every time you and I used to play,” Emma noted as the trio cleaned up the board. They put the game back in the closet before Emma declared it was time for bed, and Henry had been sent to brush his teeth. 

As he walked out of the living room he heard Killian ask, “So Swan, about that nightcap?” 

Henry decided to give them some space for the rest of the night and just go straight to bed. His mom and the pirate bid him good night, and the last Henry saw of them for the evening, Killian was taking out his rum flask and offering it to Emma, who smiled and took a swig. 

It was some time later that Henry woke with a start to the sound of something crashing to the apartment floor. There were hushed voices outside, frantic but laughing, which confused Henry even more in his sleep-induced haze. He glanced at the clock next to his bed and realized he’d only been asleep for about three hours. Maybe he’d go check and see what happened, just in case. 

If there was one skill Henry was eternally grateful to have learned from his many fairy tale character teachers, it was how to sneak around and be unseen. Between impromptu lessons from Mary Margaret, Robin Hood and the Merry Men, Ruby, and even Granny, Henry found it easy to fall into the steps that would hide the sound of his footfalls. He walked slowly on the balls of his feet, only putting pressure on them when he was sure the floorboard wouldn’t creak under his weight, and made his way down the hall towards the living room where the sound came from. 

The hushed voices grew clearer as he got closer, and Henry recognized Killian’s lilting accent and his mom’s usually clear tone, both slightly slurred. Maybe they’d each had a bit too much of Killian’s rum and were only just now getting to bed? But then what was the noise he’d heard? 

Henry inched his eyes around the corner of the hallway to look into the living room, and smiled at what he saw.

Killian and Emma were swaying on their feet in front of the couch, clinging to each other and half laughing over a pair of broken drinking glasses and spilled liquid. Henry could only assume it was rum that now littered the floor. Killian’s hook arm held Emma’s hand out to one side, while his other arm was wrapped around her waist and his mom’s other hand grasped Killian’s shoulder in an attempt to hold them both upright. 

“I told you there wasn’t enough room for a full waltz Killian. Now we’ve gotta clean up the glasses,” He heard Emma trying to sound angry, but her voice was beaming carelessly in hushed laughter, so the severity was lost.

“Absolutely right, love, and we will, but you know I could never refuse a dance with you. Forgive an old pirate for trying in such close quarters?”

Emma’s face moved closer to his until their noses bumped and foreheads touched. “Forgiven, pirate. Always forgiven.” And then she kissed him, slow and sweet. Her arm moved from his hook to his shoulder and Killian’s arms moved to hold her closer to him as they lost themselves in each other and the moment. 

Henry smiled at them, glad for their happiness and how they had found each other. That was what a relationship should look like, he thought. Playful teasing and honesty, with memories built together in moments big and small. 

He turned away, determined this time to give them their privacy and go back to bed. This time, he stayed asleep till morning.


	4. Stalled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from a guest reviewer: Killian learns about motorboats. 
> 
> This was going to be smut. It was going to be wonderful captain swan smuttiness but this idea just wouldn’t leave me alone, so here it is. Henry and Killian need to hash things out after the Snow Queen’s curse and Henry wants to take Killian out on a motorboat instead of a sailboat to do it. Unfortunately, they get stuck out at sea for a bit so they have to talk. It’s more of a heart to heart with the circumstance of modern technology than the humor of learning said tech. 
> 
> Double warning since this turned out a lot longer than I was planning, and semi-drama-ier too. 
> 
> You know the drill. I don’t own the characters but do read, review, and leave a prompt. What 21st century wonder should Killian face next?

Killian may have been learning about all of the technological wonders in the land without magic, but he was still a simple sailor at heart, and a superstitious one at that. And that healthily superstitious part of him still believed in heeding any signs the Universe sent (He liked to think that the gods of his realm had little influence in this land, despite any evidence to the contrary, but a piece of him still believed there were forces working beyond his control even in this world, hence, his concession to the Universe.). 

Being trapped several miles off shore in a motionless, what Henry had called a motorboat, was clearly one such sign. In this case, it was a sign to finally broach a subject that both Henry and Killian had been desperate to avoid; what was said between them during the curse of shattered sight. 

After the Snow Queen’s curse was broken there were a lot of condolences and apologies being made around Storybrooke. Neighbors tried to forgive each other their petty and sometimes not so petty grievances, old rivalries that were revisited were reburied, and loved ones reconciled their slights. 

Killian wasn't quite sure what category of grievances he fit into with Henry, though. Of the two of them, only the lad had actually been affected by the curse and so was the only one actively pursuing any sort of aggression. It was probably the only time Killian had been thankful not to be in possession of his heart since it meant a lesser chance of anyone being caused harm at his hand, err, hook. 

It also meant any offenses made at his expense were less likely to make an emotional impact upon his person, at least until he actually got his heart back. 

Admittedly, the boy could have been much harsher in his verbal assault against Killian (because what pirate would honestly be offended by being told he was a little dirty? It simply came with the trade. And he bathed plenty frequently now to appease his Swan thank you very much), but the lad had also claimed he never liked the pirate. 

Killian hadn’t thought much of the comment at the time. He’d been more elated at the fact that Emma had used the word ‘together’ to describe their courtship. But the words had stayed nestled in the back of the pirate’s head, parasitic and growing as they slowly ate at his few mental securities. It wasn’t until after Killian’s heart had been returned to him that he had been able to properly think over all that the lad had said and what it meant. 

If Henry never liked Killian, how then, could he stand to be around the man for so long on their sailing adventures around the coast of Storybrooke? Did Henry only ever tolerate him? Were they even friends at all? What if Henry only thought of Killian as an imposter trying to encroach on the space in the boy’s life meant for Neal?

There were too many new and troubling questions that needed answering, if the lad would only help. 

In the days after the curse and further still after his heart’s return, Killian noticed Henry doing his best to avoid the pirate. Perhaps he realized they would need to sort out what was said during the curse and was dreading it as much as Killian was. One recent encounter between them at Granny’s involved the pair arriving first for a Charming family dinner and while Killian had tried to clear the air with some light teasing Henry had only spoken in stiff, generic pleasantries until another family member arrived. In another incident Henry was slightly more dramatic and actively crossed the street to avoid walking on the same sidewalk as Killian. 

Things were tense between them, but certainly not hostile. Killian supposed they would have to be on more frequent speaking terms for things to go that far. 

So when Henry had sheepishly approached Killian about commandeering a boat for the day, Killian had taken it as a sign from the Universe that they would finally be talking sooner rather than never, so he agreed. 

Henry had insisted on taking something other than a sailboat that day. He’d pointed instead to what looked like a run-down dinghy that would have been nothing more than a lifeboat on the Jolly Roger. It seemed to be fashioned from the same strange metal as Swan’s yellow land vessel and the Prince’s truck, and there was a sleek, black, and obviously foreign device attached to the stern. Killian could only assume it was this device that allowed the questionable vessel to move at all. 

“A sail-less vessel then? Am I to understand you’ve learned to command one of these better than you’ve learned with your grandfather’s truck?” He gave the lad a knowing look. Surely Henry realized his adventure with the prince’s truck and the mailbox was hardly a well-kept secret. As with all his latest discoveries in this realm, Killian was eager to learn, but cautious about anything that may lead to harm upon his person, or result in his being lost at sea. As such, he had his reservations about the lad leading any expeditions on such a vessel. 

“It’s called a motorboat, and that,” He pointed to the black device on the stern, “Is the motor. And it’s fine; I know what I’m doing. Besides, if it gets really bad, at least there are no mail boxes on the water.”

Killian had laughed at that, and moved to help Henry set the boat off. He recognized what passed for a tiller, and a skeg (It was considerably smaller than what he was used to, but Killian was grateful that at least some things were consistent across the realms.) and patiently let Henry explain the various parts of the motor he couldn’t figure out for himself. The lad explained how the motor worked much like a car engine on land. That it ran on gasoline, the strange and foul smelling fuel that seemed to power many things in this realm, which was currently being stored in a colorful vat sitting in the bottom of the boat and connected to the motor via a narrow tube. The gasoline powered the motor to turn belts and gears within the device that turned a propeller at its base, moving the vessel through the water at breathtaking speed. 

He watched curiously as the lad lowered the motor fully into the water, and yanked on a string attached to it (To start the engine, he’d explained.). The motor whirred to life noisily, spitting water behind them, and they were off, with Henry steering the vessel from the stern. 

It was certainly faster than any ship he’d been on. And smaller too, making it more maneuverable and easier to handle, even in the hands of someone as inexperienced as Henry, although, it also seemed to give the boy a false sense of confidence in his limited abilities. There were several close calls while leaving the harbor where Killian had wanted to reach for the tiller himself to avoid crashing into some of the much larger vessels, but Henry had swerved away from collision in the nick of time and often at break neck speed. With steering behavior like that it was no wonder the lad had run into that mailbox.

After clearing the harbor the pair traveled outward, keeping within sight of the town, but far enough from shore that the isolation of the sea was still noticeable on the edges of their awareness. Henry was tense the entire time; his knuckles squeezed white against the tiller, eyes looking through Killian straight ahead, and shoulders drawn up toward his ears. Killian had seen the same look on Emma countless times when she wanted to say something but had no idea how to start. His inclination was to let Henry start the conversation between them so he’d feel at ease, so Killian said nothing and waited for the lad to speak. 

And he waited. 

And waited some more. 

It was almost twenty minutes after they had cast off that Killian saw Henry’s shoulders sag in defeat. Twenty minutes of veering through wayward fishing vessels and white-capped swells, and the pirate thought they were finally going to address the tension between them. But Henry didn’t seem to want to do that. “We should head back in. This was a bad idea,” He started, eyes glued forward on the distant horizon and hands already directing the boat back to shore. “My mom’s probably-”

Pop pop pop pop pop pop wheeze

There was a sudden sputtering and the motor and went lifeless. The motorboat slowed to a crawl before stopping completely, and the vessel started to drift, rocking helplessly against the whim of the ocean waves. 

Henry’s fingers loosened from the tiller and easily lifted the vat of gasoline from the boat floor. Brown eyes turned to Killian with a look of dread that the pirate knew must have mirrored his own face, before leaning back in realization. 

“We’re out of gas.”

“Gasoline?” Killian’s face was disbelieving. They had run out of some fuel and now they were stuck in a windless stretch of sea? Sailing vessels may have been constrained in their movements by the availability of wind but at least they needn’t fear the loss of a physical resource so ridiculous as gasoline. This was one bit of technology Killian was thoroughly unimpressed with. 

Henry sighed in resignation. “It’s my fault. I should have checked to see if there was enough gas in the tank or if there was an extra container but I didn’t and now I just feel like an idiot.” 

Killian’s hand ran through his hair, tempted to pull the strands out in frustration. “Bloody hell. If this isn’t another sign from the universe…” Killian muttered. 

“A sign?” Henry asked, having just caught Killian’s words. 

“That we’re stuck, Henry. We are literally and figuratively stuck. Have been since the last curse, maybe even longer.” Henry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, eyes darting around the boat for something, anything, else to look at. Killian sighed and his tone softened. “Believe me, this isn’t my first choice of conversation whilst we sit here stranded but it needs to be dealt with. We both know you asked me out here for a reason other than a pleasure cruise. We need to talk about what was said during the Snow Queen’s curse.”

When the lad refused to say a word, his mouth drawn into a tight line, Killian realized he’d have to take the plunge and go first. Bloody hell, this was going to be like Neverland’s Echo Cave all over again. 

“Henry, I haven’t been fair to you. What you said during the curse about me and Emma together…” He trailed off, knowing Henry remembered exactly what was said that night. “I was beyond joyous that Emma told you we were together. That she’d used that word at all. I didn’t even take what you’d said about your feelings toward it into consideration until well afterward, and for that I’m sorry. I should have addressed your feelings sooner and certainly not waited until we were stranded at sea to do it. You deserved better than this.” Killian gestured helplessly around them, the Maine shoreline off to one side and the great blue yonder stretched out as far as the eye could see everywhere else. 

Henry’s brown eyes narrowed in thought, meeting the pirate’s blue eyes in a steady, probing gaze that felt just a tad too severe for someone so young. Killian wondered if he’d somehow learned it from watching the Queen. 

He also realized that Henry still wasn’t talking and didn’t seem eager to start any time soon. Truly, this was Echo Cave revisited. 

“I also apologize for the way I’ve treated you since your arrival back from Neverland.”

That had Henry tilting his head sideways in curious suspicion, a gesture he most certainly learned from the Queen. 

“I apologize for not treating you as your own person. For having ever thought of you as a hurdle to be overcome in my courtship of Emma. For once looking at you as Gold did, and only seeing your father, only seeing a second chance to fix one of my many mistakes. I am sorry, Henry. Please let me say, though, I’ve not that of you in such a way for months, and that even though my actions were controlled by Gold’s hands during the curse, he and I did share the sentiment of wanting you safe from the Snow Queen’s curse.”

“No.” Killian’s heart leapt to his throat at Henry’s word of denial. Gods, how could a single word instill such fear in him? “Gold didn’t want me safe. He just didn’t want the guilt of leaving family behind again. I know you don’t think of me like I’m my dad anymore, but Gold still does.”

Killian felt his shoulders sag. He was glad to have the lad’s approval in at least one part of his apology, but also sorry that Henry felt at all betrayed and hurt by his grandfather. It was yet another reason Killian did not think he would ever be able to truly forgive the Crocodile. 

Despite the tension inside him, Killian offered the boy what he hoped was an encouraging smile, if only to get him talking again. Henry’s gaze only softened after what felt like an eternity, and even then it was only by the slightest of margins. 

“What I said during the curse about never liking you, that’s not how I feel now,” Henry started, rubbing his hands together nervously. “I don’t think it is, anyway. I mean, maybe once, but that was back when…” He bit his lip, visibly holding himself back from saying whatever he wanted to tell the pirate. But if they were going to move forward then it needed to be said aloud. 

“Henry…” The lad stiffened before bursting like a maelstrom, holding nothing back from the pirate’s captive ears. 

“When I really saw you for the first time it was when you were sinking your poisoned hook into my grandfather in New York. You worked with Cora, with Pan, with anyone who could get you closer to your revenge. You shot Belle, had my mom Regina captured so she’d be tortured by Greg and Tamara, and brought a giant to Storybrooke that almost destroyed the town.” It was everything he’d wanted to say to the pirate, pouring out in a way it couldn’t during the curse. In a way that hurt Killian more because he knew Henry hadn’t needed any magical prodding to say it. But it needed saying, and Killian needed to hear it, if he wanted them to be able to move forward. So Killian would do what he did best, take the abuse and survive. And it didn’t seem like Henry was slowing down any time soon. 

“You were selfish and dark and every bit the cruel pirate I’d been told about all my life. Yeah, you helped get me back from Neverland and eventually stop the Wicked Witch, but you were also the one to pull my mom and me from the safe life we had in New York. You were Captain Hook, and you wanted to take me fishing? Tell me about my dad and then date my mom? What was I supposed to think about any of that?”

Killian knew Henry had to speak his mind, but if he could just defend himself… “Henry, I want to change. I am changing. Every moment I spend with your mother, with you, it makes me want to be a better man, and I’ve spent these last months doing more good than I ever thought I’d be capable of-” 

“I never saw most of that myself.” The lad was quick to interrupt. He didn’t seem to want his momentum stopped, for fear he would lose his nerve. “Whenever a crisis comes the first thing people say is for me to go and hide somewhere safe. I only ever had the stories other people said about you to go on. It’s only now that I’m really starting to see you as Killian Jones and not just Hook. I’m not saying you can’t change or that you haven’t been trying. I know you have because everyone I trust says you have been. It’s just that I haven’t gotten to see it like everyone else has, so it might take me a little longer to really get used to it.”

The verbal assault ceased, and quiet came over the pair, giving Killian time to reflect on what Henry had let out. 

He realized the lad was right. There were actually very few occasions where Henry had personally seen Killian acting as the hero instead of the villain. There were far more instances where he was simply expected to accept that the pirate was sitting at the dinner table with the family, or was taking his mother to dinner, or bringing him sailing, or telling him stories of the father he never truly knew. Henry had existed with Killian purely on his faith in other people who said the pirate was now trustworthy. The lad hadn’t been given the opportunity to see it for himself. 

Perhaps more importantly, he’d been cheated out of the chance to make that judgment for himself as an informed young man instead of being treated like a child who had to accept everything on blind faith in others. 

It was downright patronizing toward Henry, and he certainly didn’t deserve it, even if the others really did only have the lad’s safety at heart. 

Henry’s voice pulled him from his musings. “You know I don’t hate you, right? Regina told me how the curse brought up and amplified old feelings, and that’s what made me say most of what I said. I really am grateful for everything you’ve done that helped my family and the town. And I know you’ve done so much to change and be better.”

“Truly?”

“Yeah, and about the sailing lessons and stories. I didn’t know my dad long enough to really know him even though I wanted to, and mom only knows so much about what he did before they met, so you teaching me all of this and telling me about him means a lot to me. I guess I never knew about my family when I was little so now that I have the chance I kind of like knowing where they come from.” Henry smiled at Killian, who felt the corners of his own lips tugged upwards to match. 

“Henry, thank you for telling me this. I know it’s not been easy for you but I’m eternally grateful we can talk like this.”

“Me too Killian.”

The tension between them was less, but the relief was short-lived, when Killian remembered that they had no way of getting back to shore and were in fact stranded at sea. Perhaps the lad’s phone would be able to call for help?

“Need a lift?!” A clear voice rang out over the expanse of open water and Killian swore it was the Universe that had seen fit to send an angel to the rescue. 

“Swan!” “Mom!” They cried out together in relief, glad for the miraculous and well-timed aid.

“Not to sound ungrateful for the assistance love, but what are you doing out here? We’ve not been gone so long as to warrant a search party, have we?”

Emma laughed from the deck of the larger fishing vessel, currently being operated by Leroy and a dockworker Killian didn’t recognize. “Leroy recognized the motorboat you were taking, knew it had barely any gas in the gas tank, and saw Henry almost run into a lot of other boats on your way out of the harbor, so he called me. Tie this onto the boat, we’ll pull you back.” 

She threw down the end of a line of rope, which Killian immediately tied to the bow tip of the small vessel. The boats were pulled together and Henry and Killian climbed aboard the other vessel into Emma’s waiting arms. 

“But mom, there’s a whole ocean to get stuck on. How’d you know we were right here?” Emma ruffled her son’s hair affectionately. 

“Your phone GPS kid. Storybrooke magic didn’t affect it.” Her lips were turned upward in a proud smirk that Killian easily recognized. Emma had once confided in Killian that for a long time she looked at being the Savior as a burden of birth, not an earned title. That who she was as an individual had no bearing on her ability to be anyone’s savior and that it could have easily been Joe Schmo instead (Though who this “Joe” was, Killian had no idea.). She’d confessed it was when she got to use her hard-earned skills from a lifetime of protecting herself that she felt the title was at all appropriate for her. 

The smirk she wore now was the same smirk he’d last seen in the Enchanted Forest of old, when she had deprived him of a dashing rescue by freeing herself (and Robin’s wife Marian) from the Queen’s prison. 

She really would make a brilliant pirate. 

“GPS?”

“I can tell you later,” Henry offered, his mouth turned upward, welcoming and open. 

Blue eyes met brown and Killian found himself mirroring Henry’s expression. Could it be so easy? One afternoon and a single conversation stranded together and suddenly the air was clear between them? 

No, it wasn’t yet. If they were going to move past this and have a real friendship between them it would take time and patience from them both. But talking like this was a very large and essential first step. One that Killian was glad they had taken together. 

Of course the next time they had an adventure together Killian hoped it might involve something other than being stranded at sea. Perhaps another gambling lesson if Swan didn’t find out?


	5. Good Vibrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Killian vs. the washing machine  
> Prompt: Killian finds Emma stash of ‘toys’
> 
> When Killian asked Emma for help in his battle against the washing machine, Emma was hard pressed to turn him down. She just wished she had realized sooner that Killian’s intentions were to get her against the appliance. PWP combining two prompts together and anal. Just because I could. Enjoy the single longest piece of delicious filth I have ever written.

It was becoming a habit with him, and with them. One minute Emma would be explaining something ordinary that confused the one-handed pirate about her world, and the next, he’d make a joke or innuendo that had his eyes burning and hers matching and they would tumble into each other with lips and touches that left them both needy and breathless. Maybe it was because she knew he could back up his bravado in spades, or maybe being with him just unleashed something in her. All Emma knew was that Killian Jones made her downright insatiable, and she loved it.

So it didn’t really shock her when she found herself in her current position, trapped between Killian and the washing machine, his mouth attacking her neck and hips holding her against the vibrating appliance as it rubbed them against each other deliciously.

“You knew exactly how the washer worked when you called me over here, pirate,” She accused, her voice breathless but surprisingly steady. 

They had been giving their apartment a thorough spring-cleaning. It included everything from vacuuming and dusting to washing towels and bed linens. Killian had promised he knew what he was doing with the ancient and rickety washing machine (“It’s not difficult, Swan. Towels go in, cleaning powder goes in, shut the door, press a button. It’s hardly some unbreakable curse.”). But when he called Emma over not two minutes later, a note of panic in his voice, she dropped the vacuum on the carpet and raced the twenty feet that separated them to come to his rescue. Instead of a smoking heap or over-soaped disaster, she found herself with Killian’s arms wrapping around her waist, his mouth insistent on hers, while he moved to press her ass against the noisy washer. 

“Just seizing the moment, love,” She felt his lips say against hers, before they ventured down the line of her throat. His teeth bit at her pulse and she clutched his shoulders, nails digging into his skin through his shirt. She knew the shirt wouldn’t stop the appearance of any nail marks on his shoulders, and she was just a little excited to see them once she got his shirt off. 

Before she could remove his shirt, his hand and hook slid hers upwards, forcing his mouth away from her skin to take the article off. Emma smiled at the impish delight on his face, his eagerness infectious as she felt a familiar heat crawl through her. 

Her bra was removed with the same haste and he pressed close again, his hooked arm holding her against him and his hand trailing fiery touches along her exposed skin. Her nipples rubbed roughly against his shirt, the washing machine’s vibrations creating a friction that had Emma keening and clinging to his shoulders and neck. 

How was she this gone already when he had done little more than kiss her and hold her against an appliance? The man really did bring out something insatiable in her. 

“Do you like this, Swan?” He teased. Killian knew exactly what he was doing to her, but she knew he liked hearing her as much as she liked listening to him. 

“Mmm, feels so good, Killian.” Emma struggled to form full sentences. Her thoughts were hazy in the growing cloud of lust and she was more than happy to lose herself in the fog. 

She felt the tingle of his lips against her neck as he chuckled. “Glad you approve, love. But you know what’s even better?”

He slipped both his legs in between hers, spreading her so she could feel him more fully even through both of their jeans. The vibrations of the washer against her ass moved her clothed clit against Killian’s hardening length and she moaned loudly. 

Killian groaned in her ear. “Feel what you do to me, love. Feel how hard I am for you. I bet you’re so wet right now, that I could slide inside your heat with ease. Would you like that, Swan? My cock moving inside you and easing the ache I know you feel?”

His hips slid further into the cradle of thighs, holding still against her shuddering center. Her head rolled against his shoulder at the sensation. It was so much stimulation at once. The shaking washer moving her hips against her will, the rub of her jeans against her clit, the length of him between her legs as he slid over her, even the rub of her bare chest against his clothing as he denied her the satisfaction of his nakedness. It was all too much and she felt herself coiling tighter at the combination. 

Emma tilted her hips toward him, desperate for him to move and create that sweet friction she knew they both craved, but his arms stayed firmly wrapped around her, holding her to him like a second skin. 

“Please, Killian I need you to move- Oh fuck!”

He started rutting his hips against her, his pace somehow in time with the washer behind her. The spin cycle controlled her movements as much as his arms and hips did, bringing her higher and higher. 

“You remember how I feel inside you when you’re like this, when you’re hot and tight and I’m filling you so deeply all you can think of is to scream my name, over and over.” His words coincided with the roll of his hips against her, and she struggled to respond.

“Killian,” She breathed, although it was becoming harder to do even that. 

The pressure built inside her for what felt like an eternity before leveling off on a delicious plateau. The thrust of his hips held her on the knife’s edge of pleasure, slowing down and speeding up in an effort to keep her from falling over the edge completely. Killian seemed to love making her straddle the edge of her release for as long as possible. She’d noticed he loved listening to her beg and praise him as she sought that blissful release only he could give her, denying her what she craved until she was nothing but a pile of need begging him incoherently in broken phrases. 

“Killian, oh fuck, I need- God, so good!”

She didn’t know what she was saying anymore. But she could hear Killian perfectly through the roaring of her heartbeat in her ears.

“That’s it Swan, take your pleasure. Let me hear you come apart for me.”

She let his urging words build her up while his hips and the washer moved against her in a faster rhythm, finally allowing her to tumble over the edge. 

When she came it was to the shift of his hips moving her jeans to stroke her clit more fully with every clothed thrust. Emma cried out against Killian’s neck, her hands desperately clutching him to her for support while she rode out her orgasm in the now frantic movement of his hips. 

As she came down from her high, she felt the pirate continue rutting against her, chasing his own release before he stiffened and groaned loudly. 

Emma’s knees were too weak to hold her, and she was grateful for Killian’s hips keeping her standing, even as one of his arms dropped from her back to lean against the still thrumming washing machine. The pair simply held each other, reveling in the afterglow. It was another several long moments before Emma got her breathe back enough to question Killian’s intentions.

“Is this what you had in mind all along, pirate?” She asked, unwilling to move from where she was still clinging to him. 

Killian’s laugh was tired but musical to her ears. “The thought may have occurred to me on the last laundry day. It would be a pity to let such an opportunity go to waste.”

She snorted at that. “Is that what you do? I show you technology from my world and then you find a way to weasel sex into it? I swear, I can’t even arrest someone nowadays without thinking about you and handcuffs.” Emma tried to put some conviction behind her words, really she did, but she found it to be too much of an effort in her satiated state and found herself nuzzling her nose against his neck instead. 

A lascivious smirk covered his face when he pulled back to look at her, his voice low and sending thrills to her core. “I see my work is well on its way to completion. Will you allow me to continue it, princess?” 

Emma trembled at the want in his eyes, and knew their morning dalliance was only just beginning. It seemed cleaning the apartment would have to wait until another day. 

The quick dry hump against the washing machine was delicious but now she was aching for him to be inside her, just as he had whispered in her ear. To move in the way his hips had promised only moments before. There was just one thing she wanted to confirm before she stripped them of their pants and sank down into golden bliss right there on the floor. 

“You’ve been thinking about this since you realized the washing machine vibrated?”

“Oh, longer than that, love. That vibrating contraption under the bed is what really inspired me.” His lips moved to her shoulder, tracing smoothly against her skin with every word he spoke. It was distracting and made Emma want to fall back into the warmth of him, but something about what he was saying was bugging her, and she needed to focus to figure out what it was. “I’ll admit I was baffled by it at first, but the shape of it was rather familiar so it was no difficult leap as to its purpose. Perhaps we could…” His hips lifted upwards into her in question, and she found it hard to breathe for more than one reason. 

Her vibrator.

Holy shit he’d found her vibrator. Not only that, but he even figured out it vibrated and he wanted to use it on her. 

Horrified as she should have been by his discovery, she was too turned on right now to care. In fact, she kind of wanted to see what he would do with it if given the chance. But while the notion of him using her vibrator on her sent a thrill racing to her core, she also wanted him inside of her, wanted that ache he’d created satisfied. 

Killian’s hand shifted to move between the still vibrating washer and her ass, giving it a squeeze, and an idea came to her. Something that would make her feel so full and deliciously used. The image that came to mind had her biting her lip in eagerness, and she wondered what her pirate would think of it. 

“So you’re not mad that I have it? I kind of thought you’d be annoyed that I had anything other than your talents getting me off?” She questioned, keeping her voice coy and rubbing herself against him, gauging his reaction.

“You’ve not always had me to keep you satisfied, love. But now that I’ve found the device it does present some interesting… Opportunities.” His voice was dripping with ego and sex and he emphasized his sentence with another squeeze of his hand on her ass cheek and a heavy roll of his hips against her that made her catch her breath.

Emma had a hard time keeping her face guarded and neutral as she questioned him further. “If you figured out what my vibrator was, then you know where it’s meant to go, right?”

“Is that what you call it, a vibrator? How appropriate. Aye, I know where it’s meant for, and it’s somewhere I’m rather fond of.” His hand slid between her legs and one finger gave her clothed center a long, hard stroke and she fought the urge to tilt her hips in time with his movement. She couldn’t give in yet. She needed to tell him her plans and make sure he was on board with it. 

“Did you know there’s somewhere else in me that vibrator has been? Somewhere I’m hoping you can help me with?”

Blue eyes darkened impossibly at her, intrigued and more than a little surprised at her suggestion. “Is that so?”

Her hands smoothed over his chest, finally moving under his shirt to feel the steeliness of his abs and chest. “Hmm. It’s happened once or twice, when I’m alone and naked in bed, wishing it was your fingers inside me instead of mine, that I want just a bit more,” She confessed, her hands moving to his back and trailing down to his ass. “So I use the vibrator and…” She gave his cheeks a squeeze and his breath caught as he groaned in understanding. 

“Well now, the princess is more wanton than the fair citizens of Storybrooke would believe. Whatever would they think?” 

“Not that they ever need to know, but they’d probably be shocked out of their corsets. What do you think of it?”

His smile was as filthy as he was probably imagining her solo bed adventures to be, and it thrilled her to see him like this. “What would you have of me, Swan? Just say the word and it’s yours.” Her pirate was always so eager. 

Emma’s hand palmed his length through the front of his now wet jeans and she sighed in his ear, “I want you to fuck me with the vibrator while you’re buried in my ass. I want to be so full of what you do to me that I can’t think straight.”

His groan reverberated through her and he held himself tightly against her hand for a long moment before abruptly pulling away, and dragging her down the hall to her bedroom. 

Emma didn’t have to see his face to know her smile was just as sinfully excited as Killian’s. It had been a while since she’d had anal sex, and then with mixed results, but it was something she wanted to try with Killian. If anyone was going to know how to make anal sex really work well, it was the 300-year-old pirate who was probably capable of writing his own kama sutra. 

As eager as she knew the pirate was it didn’t stop him from systematically dragging off his clothes in the hallway in an impromptu strip tease. His eyes held her gaze with every piece of skin that was revealed and Emma wet her lips anxiously, wanting nothing more than to push him against the wall and lick every inch of him. 

It wasn’t until they reached the bedroom that Emma finally unbuttoned her own jeans. She turned away from him, bending over to slide the denim and her underwear from her legs while she grabbed the vibrator and lube from a box under the bed. 

“That’s quite a view, love,” She heard Killian groan out as she turned to face him, still bent over. His hand stroked his length slowly, sliding the bead of pre-cum over the head, and he took several steps toward her. “Still want me to take a closer look?”

“I think you’ll like it better if I’m over here, pirate.” Emma crawled onto the bed, glancing back at Killian and deliberately swinging her hips as she settled on spread knees in the middle of the mattress, facing away from him. Her upper body slid out in front of her, the heated skin of her breasts dragging against the cool sheets. She groaned at the contact, bringing one hand down between her legs to rub against her slit to quell the ache that had only grown since the round against the washer. 

She didn’t even notice the bed dip when he joined her, but the chill of his hook running down her spine and over the curve of her ass had her shivering in eagerness and moving her fingers deep inside her. Killian’s fingers joined hers in their strokes, their combined effort easily bringing Emma closer to the edge, but never letting her push over. 

“That button on the end turns on the vibrations? Aye?” Killian’s voice blew into her ear as he loomed over her. She could only nod in response, lost in the sensations he was creating in her. If this was how the pirate led interrogations, Emma had no trouble believing he always got what he wanted out of his prisoners. “The vibrator is going to be on while I get you ready, but once I’m buried deep inside your sweet arse I’ll start sliding it in and out of you. Understood?” His fingers curled inside her and stroked that hidden bundle of nerves, sending fireworks shooting through her body. 

“Fuck, yes,” She sighed, eyes fluttering shut while the combined assault of their hands in her heat kept her high. 

Just as she was about to tumble over, Killian stilled both of their hands and she mewled in complaint. “Am I to assume that other tube holds a special lubricant for…”? His metal appendage slid between her cheeks and ran over her puckered opening briefly; leaving her to sigh at the contact and shift her hips backwards to him. 

“Ahh, Killian…”

“Answer me, darling. Answer me so I can give you what you need.” His hand moved both of their fingers out of her slightly and she groaned at the loss. 

“Yes! It’s for you to lube up my ass for your cock! Please, Killian!”

She heard him chuckle “Good girl” under his breath, and then Killian’s fingers pulled their hands away from her and pushed the vibrator inside her, stretching her blissfully and moving over the sweet spot deep inside. He eased the device in and out of her several times before settling it to the hilt and pressing the ‘on’ button. 

A thousand white lights shot behind her eyelids when the vibrations started, and Emma didn’t try to stop the cries that escaped her throat. She just ducked her head down to the mattress and lifted her ass further into the air and Killian’s waiting fingers.

His thumb rubbed soothing circles around her rear entrance, urging her to relax with his ministrations. As wonderfully distracted as she was by her vibrator, the chill of Killian thumbing more lubricant around and just inside her brown ring sent more shivers through her, making her more aware of what was to come. 

“Easy there, Swan. Just breathe, that’s it.” It helped listening to the low timbre of his voice. That lilting accent pouring out his sweet words soothed her until she was putty and made it easier to relax her muscles. So when he moved a whole finger inside and started pumping it in and out of her, slowly so she had time to adjust, it was a welcome and entirely pleasing sensation. Combined with the vibration of her toy deep within her, it brought her right to the edge of her pleasure, holding her prisoner there under Killian’s control. He was the master of her fate in this moment, and the notion of being at his mercy like this made her moan aloud and grip the sheets in anticipation. 

By the time he added a second, and eventually a third finger, Emma was shaking from sensory overload, desperate to finish once more before he took her. 

Killian seemed to sense her need and reached his hook around, rubbing the cool metal against her clit in heavy circles. It was all she needed to come, and she sobbed his name into the mattress and rutted her hips incoherently in every direction her pleasure was coming from, not knowing where to go to reach for it but knowing she had to just move to find it. 

While she came down from her high he eased the pace of his fingers, removing them one at a time, and turned off the vibrator before removing that too. Emma was tempted to collapse onto the mattress but knew the main event was about to come. 

She heard a squirt that was likely from the lubricant tube and suddenly felt the tip of Killian’s length, covered in more of the chilly lube, lined up with her rear entrance. 

Emma wiggled against him and heard his intake of breath. “Just get in me, pirate.” She felt his chuckle as he slid inside her, painfully slow.

Killian had done a good job of preparing her, but Emma still felt like she was being speared in two. Bolts of sensation ran up and down her spine and she fought to relax her muscles, knowing it would be easier and far better if she did. Instead she concentrated on the vibrator that Killian was currently sliding back inside her heat. He took his time with both of her entrances, checking her reaction before moving more deeply into either, until finally he and the toy were fully seated in her. 

“Gods, Swan, you magnificent creature. So bloody tight!”

Emma could only moan in response, her mind as full of sensation as she was physically with Killian. The combined pleasure and pain was incredible, and Emma thought she could die happy in that moment. He hadn’t even started moving yet and she already felt used in the best way. She didn’t think the feeling could get anymore magnificent until he turned the vibrator back on, and watched her loose herself to bliss. 

“Fuck. So full, Killian I’m so fucking full. Please! Need you to- Oh God!” Killian started moving. He thrust in and out of her rear entrance slowly and in time with his thrusts of her vibrator in her core, holding her hips against him with his hooked arm. 

“Fuck, love. Can feel that damn vibrator through you. So good!”

“Ahh! Killian!”

They came to their peaks quickly, and this time Killian did not seem content to let Emma straddle the edge for too long. He wanted to see her shatter under him, wanted her to come apart around him, gripping him like a vice as he moved inside her. 

Eventually, Emma realized he had lost his grip on the vibrator, leaving it buried deep inside her to stretch and vibrate her inner walls in favor of quickening the pace of his hips against her. 

His fingers moved to her clit, rubbing it to give her the final push. Just as before, the stimulation was too much and she came hard against the sheets, crying out his name in relief before collapsing slightly onto her arms. Killian continued to thrust against her, his hips sputtering as his release came to him. When he finished, his hips slowing their movements after the high, some of his release dripped down Emma’s thighs and onto the bed sheets. 

Both of their breathing was ragged and they struggled to untangle from each other. She groaned at the soreness now present as he pulled out her, first from her ass, then turning off the vibrator and taking that out too. 

The pair collapsed onto the mattress together, Killian lying half on top of her, half spooning her, and Emma curled back into the warmth of him. They both knew they would start to get chilly soon, but neither wanted to unfurl from the warmth of the other’s body to reach for the blanket. They were too caught up in post-coital awe and bliss. 

“You are a wonder, Emma.” Killian’s lips praised her ears and her skin, trailing down her throat to her shoulder and back up again. “An absolute wonder.” Emma could only sigh, content with the morning and the moment.

Several minutes later, just as Emma was about to drift off to sleep, she remembered.

“Hey Killian?”

“Hmm?”

“We still gotta wash these sheets.”


	6. Dough and Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been busy plotting/writing the first few parts of a multi-chapter adventure fic starring Henry Mills on his own quest in the Enchanted Forest with Mulan (bc I miss her and Henry deserves a little adventure too). The fic is called Forest of Worth. Check it out! 
> 
> In the meanwhile though, I was feeling domestic today and decided to bake something chocolaty, which led to this little nugget of inspiration. 
> 
> Killian vs. the oven/baking/modern cooking. Mild fluff toward the end.

A putrid burning smell filled the kitchen of the Charming’s apartment and Killian cursed his way to the oven. His hook pulled the oven door open and he braced himself for the onslaught of ash and failure that lay helplessly before him in unrecognizable clumps on the baking sheet. 

“Bloody hell, not again.” 

Was it really too much for him to want to bake something edible for Emma Swan? He could fend for himself in the Enchanted Forest, fish off his ship or cook over a fire as need be, but the devices and appliances littered throughout the kitchens of this realm were beyond any reasonable understanding without proper tutelage. 

He sighed heavily in defeat, his gloved hand taking hold of the baking tray, ready to toss the latest batch of burnt dough into the garbage bin. Perhaps he should have simply asked for help instead of trying to do this on his own, but for once the apartment was empty and no one would be back for the remainder of the afternoon. It was a rare window of opportunity that Killian refused to waste. 

It had taken several weeks of subtle observation and light questioning, but Killian thought he had a decent handle on the concept of modern cooking techniques, at least enough to bake a batch of those bloody chocolate chip cookies Emma seemed so fond of. Mary Margaret wasn’t the easiest person to nonchalantly follow in the kitchen, with the way she flitted effortlessly between bowls of dessert batter and main courses and appetizers all while entertaining her infant son. There were several times he was certain the princess knew what he was up to when he asked a particularly specific question and her eyes narrowed in consideration. If she had figured it out, she held her tongue. 

He had watched the woman use the electric mixer and the oven countless times. Had seen the exact buttons she pressed to turn them on and off and even control the speed of the mixer and set the oven’s timer. As far as he could tell they were the only two unfamiliar items he needed for this endeavor. 

He certainly wasn’t at a loss for ingredients. David had been hell-bent since his son’s birth to take as few trips to collect food each week as possible, lest he somehow miss a key milestone in the infant’s life. His effort resulted in the apartment being nearly overrun by crates of eggs, mountains of flour and sugar, frozen vegetables, and a near endless supply of coffee and chocolate chips, among other essentials. 

It was even easier finding the recipe Mary Margaret used. He was confident in his observation skills and memory but he wanted this done right, and that meant following the bloody instructions. The book was always laid out on the kitchen counter from constant use, and was covered in the remnants of meals past. The page with the cookie recipe was spattered in streaks of something brown and spicy smelling mixed with what had to be the sugary sweetness of honey. How those ingredients came to fall on a page completely unrelated to them was one mystery Killian had no need to solve. 

Combining all the ingredients together had been a strange but ego boosting lesson in using the electric mixer. He was immensely happy at having mastered the device. The thought of having to mix the ingredients with one hand while holding the bowl balanced in his hooked arm had weighed on him when he thought the electric mixer might be out of his reach. So even though some of the dough now painted the wall of the kitchen from when he turned the mixer on too high, and a good spattering now covered his face and the apron he had borrowed from Mary Margaret, for the most part it had remained obediently in the bowl. 

Perhaps that was where his false sense of confidence had originated. The relative ease with which he had mastered the electric mixer made him cocky in using the oven and led to his current downfall. 

Ovens were hardly a new concept to Killian or anyone from the Enchanted Forest. What was strange about the contraptions here was the idea of being able to so minutely control everything about the inside of the cooking space. There were lights that could be turned on and off inside, a temperature control that required nothing but the push of a button, and no obvious fire as a heat source. When he tried to ask Mary Margaret how the blasted thing worked she had pointed to several coils lining the wall of the oven, and spoke of how the heat collected in there and radiated into the closed space of the oven. 

Well of course it bloody did, it was an oven. But how was it so finely controlled? The temperature could be held within a matter of tens of degrees without fear of changing. 

She didn’t have an answer for him. 

The dough that hadn’t gone spiraling from the bowl yielded four trays of cookies, but for some bloody reason Mary Margaret had seen fit to cross out the recommended time and temperature for cooking the treats in the book and Killian couldn’t for the life of him decipher what was written underneath the black ink of her pen. So he decided to try one tray at a time in the hopes that at least one of them would turn out edible. 

The first tray was decidedly undercooked, so he placed it back in the oven and turned up the temperature. But after another round in said oven the dough turned crispy and too dark. He tried not let it bother him, told himself he knew it wouldn’t be as easy as Mary Margaret seemed to make it look, and that he had three whole trays left to experiment with. 

The second tray was put in for a few minutes less than the first, at the same temperature, but yielded the same black ashen monstrosities. So into the garbage bin they went to join their predecessors. 

The third and most recent tray was put in for even less time but yielded charcoal blobs instead of entirely crisp wafers. He dared to taste one of them before throwing them out. It was black and burnt on the outside, but still doughy and uncooked within. 

Killian had never known such a thing to be possible when baking or cooking. Perhaps it was an ailment found only in this realm’s kitchens. 

By now the entire apartment stank of charcoal and Killian was tempted to open a window to let some air in. Hopefully it would clear the stench from the room before Emma and her parents returned from their walk. He only had one tray left and he would not let it go to waste. He lowered the oven temperature, and vowed to check the dough every minute to see if they were ready. 

It was after fifth oven check that he swore he heard muffled voices coming up the stairs and Killian panicked. 

Bloody hell, it was too soon! They were all supposed to be on their forest walk for another hour at least!

Killian was as much of a right mess as the kitchen and the apartment still reeked of ash and his culinary failures. He didn’t want to be caught in such an embarrassing state but knew it would be foolish and cowardly to hide whilst his efforts were discovered. 

And the last batch of dough wasn’t even done yet! So there was nothing but burnt lumps to show for his efforts thus far.

“Does anyone else smell that?” Killian recognized Henry’s worried voice even through the thick door.

“I’m sure it’s nothing. Might be a neighbor cooking something. Yes they are! They’re all cooking dinner and soon we’ll be cooking dinner too!” Mary Margaret’s placation quickly turned into cooing her infant, who was no doubt being bounced in his mother’s arms at that exact moment. 

The voices came closer, and he heard a key slip into the lock. Killian watched in horror from where he stood next to the oven as the doorknob slowly twisted open. The Charmings waltzed casually into their apartment, flanked by Emma and Henry, baby Neal gurgling from his mother’s arms as she excitedly talked to him. 

Each stopped short when they caught sight of Killian standing helplessly in the kitchen, his eyes wide and fearful. Caught under the scrutiny of four pairs of eyes gaping at him he was at a loss for words and opened and shut his mouth in the hope that something would come out. 

“Swan,” He squeaked. Gods above, he was Captain bloody Hook, he did not squeak. Why did the first thing out of his mouth have to be squeak? “You’re back early?”

“Were you… baking?” Henry asked. Killian couldn’t place the look in the lad’s eyes, or anyone else’s eyes for that matter. Whether it was awe or pity in those depths, he didn’t want to. Didn’t want to linger on their gazes if there was even a remote possibility of disappointment or anger in them. 

Mary Margaret’s was the only face he could read at that moment. Her eyes were bright with mirth and comprehension. She had known exactly what he was up to the past few weeks. Knew what his questions and glances to the kitchen were in preparation for. The ghost of a smile gracing her lips was one of amusement but approval, and he felt the tiniest bit of tension leave him. 

“This is why you didn’t want to come on the walk this afternoon,” Emma whispered, meeting his eyes with green orbs that never failed to captivate him. It was said with such softness that Killian didn’t know what to make of it. Was she disappointed he was wasting her parent’s food on a burnt disaster? Did she think him foolish for trying to go it alone in one of her realm’s kitchens? It would have been one thing if he had a batch of cookies ready for her, but all he had was a mess and complete fiasco laid out for her and her parents perusal. 

Emma said nothing, her face unreadable as she marched forward toward him with purposeful strides. Killian stepped back against the counter, ready to face a verbal assault about wasting food and how stupid it was of him to try and do this himself when all he had to do was ask for help. Nothing could have prepared him for Emma pressing herself fully against him, throwing her arms around his neck, and kissing him for everything he was worth. 

He gasped in surprise and she took the chance to tilt their heads and dive her tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his in a brief but delightful sword fight. On instinct he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, lost in the feel of her and the sheer relief that she wasn’t angry with him. Kissing him like this had to be a good thing because it certainly felt like a good thing. 

He moaned into her mouth when her tongue brushed against the roof of his mouth and pulled her impossibly closer, ready to move his hand under her jacket-

“Ahem!” They sprang apart, faces bright red as David glared at them with look that could have struck Killian dead. Killian was still dazed from the sudden kiss but Emma was surprisingly unapologetic, biting her lips and making it very difficult for Killian to keep from puling her into his arms again. Emma never was one for such bold public displays, especially in front of her parents and Henry, not that Killian was complaining; the spontaneity was most welcome. 

David’s face was still annoyed, Mary Margaret was smiling gleefully, and Henry looked just a little confused. Killian caught Emma’s eyes and the pure astonishment and glee he saw there was enough to let him know she was more than happy to have walked in on him like this. That she was happy to find him doing something like this for her. 

Silence continued to fill the room for several moments, and it was Mary Margaret who spoke first. 

“Killian, is that another tray in the oven? Why don’t you pull it out and we’ll see what you’ve got so far.”


	7. Shipper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reviewer prompt, Killian watches Pirates of the Caribbean. Sorry this took so long to get out. The mind has been more preoccupied than the muse can handle of late, but all is well and under control again. If you’ve never seen Pirates of the Caribbean, any of them, be warned that there are major spoilers ahead for those movies, particularly the first, but also general bits about the later movies. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own OUAT or Pirates of the Caribbean.
> 
> As always, read/review/leave a prompt!

Without the presence of an immediate crisis or villain, Emma and Killian had fallen into an evening weekend routine of alcohol and Netflix. Some nights it was a beer and an action flick, others a drinking game and a comedy, and on some rare occasions she could get him to sit through a romance with a glass of wine (She thought he was willing to put up with The Notebook and Pride & Prejudice because they gave him ideas to use on her.). 

Henry had mentioned earlier in the week that Killian’s guyliner and several of his mannerisms reminded him of Jack Sparrow, and Killian had been eager to learn what Henry meant by that. So tonight’s combination of choice was rum and a pirate movie, specifically Pirates of the Caribbean, Curse of the Black Pearl. 

The rum had been Emma’s idea. Even though it was beyond cliché she insisted on keeping with the theme. Killian had given her an odd look when she suggested it. “Theme?” He asked. “Is rum as common among the dashing rapscallions of this world as mine?” She simply shrugged and took the whole bottle with her to the couch, saying they could pass it between them instead of having to deal with glasses. 

He settled into the couch next to her, throwing his hooked arm over her shoulders and letting her lean against him while he searched for the movie. Killian had gotten fairly adept at using the remote to navigate the Netflix screen and search for films and TV shows, even though Emma usually had to help spell out odd-lettered titles (“Pursuit of Happiness with a ‘y’ Swan? What is this world’s education like that such a gross misspelling is so known?”). It always brought a smile to her face to see him so seamlessly interacting with aspects of her world. 

When the movie’s info screen popped up, her pirate took one look at the movie poster of Johnny Depp in full Jack Sparrow costume, and burst out laughing. “That is perhaps the most elaborate facial hair I’ve ever laid eyes on in 300 years! A braided and beaded beard, bloody hell, that’s ridiculous!”

“Oh come on, you must’ve seen it all in 300 years. Didn’t you ever have a beaded dreadlock phase?”

Killian scoffed at that. “Several of my crew did. It’s those beard beads that are mind-boggling. My hair was well-kept during my Naval days, and even after I cut the ponytail off-”

“Back up. You had a ponytail?”

Confusion filled his features, and he took a swig of rum from the bottle. “I take it by your tone ponytails on men are bad, or at least a rarity in this realm.”

“Depends on the guy. They’re a big step above perms and waxed mustaches though. Now play the movie, pirate.”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

He was quiet at first, but once the young versions of Will Turner and Elizabeth Swan were face to face on the ship deck, Killian piped in, “They’re meant to end up together at the end of this, aren’t they?”

Emma stiffened next to him and she knew he noticed. “Why um, do you say that?” She didn’t want to spoil it for him, obvious or not, but the movie had only just started. How could he have a theory about the ending already?

“I’ve seen enough of your world’s movie stories to recognize the pattern, Swan. Wait a moment, if that Elizabeth lass is the Governor’s daughter…” Killian went quiet for a moment, and then glanced excitedly between Emma and the screen. “Swan… E. Swan!”

“What?”

“You’re E. Swan! And so is she! She’s E. Swan too! There’s a proverbial princess named E. Swan in a story about pirates!”

“Huh, well that’s something.” Killian looked at her incredulously, silently saying ‘It’s only your bloody name and you just noticed?’ But he did little more than shake his head at her, muttering “unbelievable” under his breath. 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

When it came time for Captain Jack Sparrow’s entrance, Emma thought Killian would be glued to the screen in elation and laugh with her at Sparrow’s antics and quirks. Instead he shrugged and smirked a little. “He seems an entertaining fellow. Quite the character.”

Emma turned to him. “That’s it? Captain Jack Sparrow makes a dramatic entrance and he’s just entertaining? I kinda thought you’d be a bigger Sparrow fan. You’re both dead clever and can talk your way out of anything.”

“Is that a bad thing he’s not my favorite? I’ve certainly no reason to dislike him as yet. We do seem to share a great many traits.”

“No, no, it’s just surprising is all. Do you have a different favorite so far?”

He didn’t hesitate in his answer. “So far, aye, that Turner lad. He seems a good and honorable man.” 

Of course, Emma realized. It made more sense for Killian to like Will Turner as a character than Jack Sparrow. He probably saw a lot of his pirate self in Captain Sparrow, between the rum, hunt for revenge, and clever schemes, and apparently Henry saw it too, but it was Will Turner that reminded Killian of how he used to be back in his more reputable Naval days. Turner was what Killian felt he’d lost when he became a pirate and sought his own vengeance.

Jack Sparrow was how the world saw Killian. Will Turner was who he aspired to be again. 

Emma was more fixated on the meaning behind Killian’s choice in favorite character than he was though. She was pulled from her musings by Killian commenting excitedly on the movie again. “Lass, look at that! With the rafters and that footwork. It’s a bit fantastical but that’s a swordfight!” He took another drink of rum and let out a laugh when the blacksmith knocked Sparrow unconscious with a bottle in an anticlimactic finish to such a flurried melee. 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Killian’s shiver at the sight of the Black Pearl’s zombified crew had Emma trembling and suddenly remembering just how creepy looking they really were. “That may be some of the most grisly curse magic I’ve ever seen, Swan. Remind me again how it isn’t real?” 

She smiled, curled into him further, and drank from the rum bottle before passing it back to him. “Animation, buddy. Just lots and lots of really sophisticated animation.”

“Sophisticated meaning you don’t quite understand it fully yourself?”

Emma tried to look offended but failed. “I get the gist of it! There’s computers and these artists do things with the computers…”

His eyes were bright with amusement. “Swan, is it wrong of me that I’m relieved you have trouble understanding some aspects of your world too? Because I must say, love, it’s actually quite inspiring.”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

“Parley? How the bloody hell does she know parley if she isn’t a pirate? Is the Pirate’s Code common knowledge in this world? And I’m still not sure about this Barbossa and his monkey.”

“Wait, is there actually a Pirate’s Code?”

He tensed and his blue eyes stared suspiciously unblinking at the screen. “I’m afraid I couldn’t say love.”

“Is this one of those, ‘the first rule of fight club is not to talk about fight club’ things?” 

“Fight club?”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Scarlet and Giselle had just slapped the sass out of Jack Sparrow on Tortuga and if Emma hadn’t been curled around Killian as tightly as she was she would never have caught his muttered comment. “My sympathies, but you brought that on yourself mate.” 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

“Now I know they’re taking us for fools. Sea turtles and human hair?” Killian scoffed at Gibb’s telling of Sparrow’s daring escape from being marooned on the island. 

“It’s a fantasy movie, Killian. You’re not supposed to take it too seriously.”

“Human hair from his back though? I’m a tried and true survivor Swan, but that’s bloody disgusting. Clearly my favorite Mr. Turner shares my skepticism though, so I can rest easy knowing he is no gullible loon.”

“Gullible loon? Seriously?”

When it was eventually revealed that Sparrow had indeed made up the fantastical account of his harrowing escape Killian whooped excitedly. “Ha! Didn’t I say Swan? Turner and I are indeed of a shared mind. Sea turtles and human hair, what complete nonsense.”

“Says the man who infused Pan’s shadow into his ship’s sails so we could all fly away from Neverland.”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

“Does Turner become a pirate in the end?” Killian asked. Despite his questioning tone he gave her a knowing, if somewhat glazed, look. A good portion of the rum was buzzing pleasantly through Emma and Killian’s veins, and while it did nothing to dampen Killian’s talkativeness, Emma was finding it hard to keep a straight face when he made predictions about the end of the movie. Also, she had a hard time deciding if it was the rum or Killian’s closeness that made her want to curl so impossibly close to him. 

“Let’s just ‘hic’ watch him find Elizabeth in the cave first.” If she could just keep her eyes on the screen instead of the warm body she was wrapped around maybe she could save Killian from any more spoilers. 

“So he does turn? I rather hope I’m wrong about that. And this knocking Sparrow unconscious when he’s only trying to help, it seems eerily familiar darling. But between being hit in the head with an oar or that giant’s compass I think I’d have preferred the oar. Fewer sharp edges.”

“We were fighting by a dried up lake and it’s what I had available! And you were being all, you, with your innuendos and how I’d feel it when you jabbed me with your sword.”

His eyes caught hers in a predatory stare. “And haven’t you, love?”

The deep flush spreading on her cheeks was all the answer he needed and Emma was sorely tempted to take another drink from the rum bottle in her hand just to distract herself. He took a moment to stare at her further, watching the blush creep down her neck, before turning abruptly back to the movie. 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

“Barbossa does a have a point about Turner’s lack of specificity. He never did say when or where Elizabeth was supposed to be released,” Killian noted. “Nor did Elizabeth make any such specifications when she first went aboard the Black Pearl.”

“Is looking for loopholes an essential skill for all pirates or is Barbossa just being manipulative?”

“Loopholes can turn the tide of an unfavorable agreement. Any pirate who’s survived long enough will tell you the same thing.”

She stared at him in awe for a moment. “You’d be a good lawyer,” She decided. 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

“Haha, clearly Sparrow has his ‘priorities’ in order. I might’ve been just as concerned about the rum being gone as he. But Elizabeth, now there’s a lass with her head on straight. She didn’t accept defeat. No, she built a signal flare. Not one to take anything lying down, I see.”

Emma handed him the rum bottle and wrapped her arms around his waist. “She gets more awesome later,” She said, forgetting her intentions of staying spoiler-free. 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

“Ghastly as those undead sailors are, that curse of theirs seems rather handy.”

“Well they don’t have to worry about scurvy, I guess.”

He laughed at that. “I meant the walking underwater bit, very helpful for a sneak attack on those naval ships. I’d have half a mind to do the same were I in Barbossa’s position.”

“So you would listen to Jack Sparrow and not break the curse you’ve been trying to break for however many years because you want to stay immortal just a little bit longer to take out a bunch of navy ships. Does this mean you’re more sure about Barbossa than before?”

“Captain Jack Sparrow. And while I’ll admit he’s a far more shrewd man than many of the pirates I’ve dealt with, I’m still a tad perplexed about the undead monkey.” 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

“Fanciful as this film is, Swan, I’m enjoying all these fights. It’s rather like watching a very detailed and gruesome sparring session.” She could see the excitement in his eyes as they flitted across the screen trying to keep up with the action, but there was also tightness to his jaw that Emma recognized. 

It was always interesting to watch Killian’s face during the many fight scenes or more action-filled sequences. His whole body would tense and relax in time with the safety of the characters and she felt his arm tighten more noticeably around her. She let herself move impossibly closer to him every time he did. 

He sometimes muttered comments about the fighters’ techniques under his breath. “Good form,” He would say, or “poor choice mate,” and “I’ll have to try that.” Emma suspected his involvement was because he was still growing used to the idea that the movies were just images, not real. While it was probably easier for him to grasp the concept of moving images when the characters were just talking or doing something bland and normal, an action scene was entirely different. Those scenes meant to get normal audiences excited, but they were probably more heart pumping for Killian because he had lived through so many moments like those. He might have had to remind himself that the scenes playing out before him weren’t real and he wasn’t in any actual danger, no matter how much they reminded him of fights and battles long past. 

“Glad you’re liking it so far. And Elizabeth is totally right. Corsets are instruments of torture,” Emma said, shivering at the memory of the corset she had worn during her and Killian’s stint to the Enchanted Forest of the past, and the painful impression the garment had made on her spleen. 

“I’ll say it again love. That discomfort is a cross I’m willing to bear.” She caught his heated gaze on her chest and raised an eyebrow at him. He met her eyes and returned the quirked brow, flashing her a lecherous grin that made her breath quicken, which only caused her chest to rise and fall more rapidly, to his obvious delight. 

It took Emma several moments to tear herself from his heated stare so she could finish watching Jack, Elizabeth, and Will fight Barbossa and his men. But she still felt the heat rolling off of him and the way his arm tightened a fraction around her, pulling her closer. 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

“I’ll never understand your realm’s fascination with putting pirates in impractically large, feathered hats. First there was that cartoon version of myself that you showed me, then Barbossa and his feathered cap, and now Turner’s gone and worn one.”

Emma chuckled. “I’ve seen a couple of Regina’s old Evil Queen outfits. There were some pretty big hats there too.”

“Clothing for the nobility was hardly about practicality, love. I can assure you, there are no such frivolities among the rapscallions of the Enchanted Forest.” 

She nodded, and was quiet for a moment, before admitting, “Turner looks pretty good in that hat though.”

Killian groaned, embarrassed, in agreement. “Bloody hell, I want that hat. Practicality be damned.”

 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

The credits started to roll but Killian and Emma hadn’t moved from where they were currently wrapped around each other. The two were still pleasantly buzzed and Emma found her hands had at some point started to run along Killian’s side without her realizing. Rum sometimes made her just a little handsy, but only when she was around Killian (She had several guesses as to why that was). He didn’t seem to mind though. His own hand had long since placed the mostly empty rum bottle to stand on the floor in favor of drumming his fingers along her arm. 

“Lifestyle inaccuracies and realm differences aside, I did enjoy that greatly, love.” 

“Really?”

“Truly.” His blue eyes suddenly took on a sparkling gleam. “And might I remind you once again that I was indeed right about Turner and his E. Swan? Did I not correctly predict they were meant to be in the first minutes of the movie?”

“You did, you did. You got it Sherlock. Good deduction skills.”

“Sherlock, that detective from last weekend’s viewing? I’m clever Swan, but I’m no great puzzle solver. Or murder investigator.”

“No, but you are a pirate. In fact, you’re my pirate.” Emma knew it was the rum that was making her more brazen, but being wrapped around Killian for the better part of two hours was definitely a big factor in what she did next. 

She leaned up and kissed him, slow and sweet, bringing a hand up to his neck to play with the sensitive hairs at the base. For all the boldness the rum in her veins was making her feel, the kiss started off simply, lips moving other lips, the movie credits droning in the background. When Killian moved his hand to angle her head back the kiss deepened. He nipped at her mouth and she moaned at the contact, opening her mouth to his questing tongue. 

Emma pulled him backward on the couch until he was lying on top of her, moving both her arms around his neck as he wrapped his hooked arm more fully around her waist. Their lips continued to taste each other, unhurried, as Emma shifted her legs open to cradle him. She felt the ridge of him through her jeans, growing hard and thick and rubbing deliciously against her. Her legs lifted on their own to lock around his waist, changing the angle and bringing him closer. 

He groaned low in his throat at the contact, the rumble of his chest vibrating through her and sending heat straight to her core. Killian pressed his hips forward against her center and held still, keeping up the pressure for as long as he chose before pulling his hips away briefly then bringing them back together in a slow rutting motion. 

Her lips left his mouth and found the skin of his throat, ghosting up and down before settling on a particularly sensitive spot by his ear that had him trembling delightfully against her. Killian’s hand continued to knead the muscles of her neck and tug at her hair as he whispered praises in her ear, some serious and some more humorously related to the movie, which made her shake with laughter against him. He described to her in no shortage of detail how beautiful she was, how caring, and brave, but he also called her his pirate princess, and told her his treasure wasn’t cursed and she could plunder him anytime if she wanted to find out for herself. He punctuated the praise with a kiss or another rut of their hips together, leaving her happily breathless and content. 

Emma had no clue how long they stayed like that, just reveling in the feel of each other. Their hands were entwined in each other’s hair, lips moving lazily over skin, and slowly rocking their hips against each other, building up that delicious pressure without succumbing to the fall. It was as her own hands were venturing down the back of his shirt, eager to feel the whipcord muscle of his back she’d come to know so well, that she noticed the music coming from the TV and that it was decidedly different than the movie credit music.

Killian must have noticed her brief pause, because he pulled his head back from her and lifted himself onto one elbow to glance at the screen. 

“Swan, is the movie playing again?”

“No, that looks like the start of the sequel actually.”

Killian’s face lit up like Christmas. “There are more?” His voice was so full of blissful wonder she couldn’t help but laugh a little at his delight. 

“Yeah, there are three more movies.” 

Blue eyes moved between her and the movie, clearly torn between continuing to neck her on the couch and watching what was obviously one of his new favorite movie franchises so far. She laughed again. “Let’s keep watching for a bit, ok? We don’t have to finish them all tonight but we can see how far we get.”

Killian smiled at her, then grabbed a pillow that had fallen to the floor and started arranging it under Emma’s head.

“Um, Killian?”

“Just making sure you stay comfortable darling,” He grinned cheekily before wrapping both of his arms around her waist, settling his head on her chest, and turning to watch the movie. “I’m quite content to stay where I am, thank you very much.” 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

After the third movie was finished, it was some time past 2am and Killian nudged Emma awake. She’d fallen asleep sometime after Tia Dalma gave Sparrow a jar of dirt to ward off Davy Jones in the second movie. “Swan, I’ve changed my mind,” He said. 

“Hmm? ‘Bout what?” Her voice was already groggy with sleep and she nuzzled her nose into Killian’s hair, intent on sinking into the heat of his body and drifting back into her dreams.

“My favorite character. I’ve changed my mind. Sparrow’s a delight, Turner’s a good man, and Barbossa’s shrewd, but Elizabeth is my favorite.”

“Why’s-at?” She mumbled, only half coherent.

He ran a finger down her cheek, brushing aside the stray hairs that had fallen there. “Because she reminds me of you. Graceful, a little pirate in her, and willing to do whatever it takes to make sure her loved ones are safe. Not to mention you both cut quite the figure in red dresses.” 

“Mmm, good answer.”


	8. Cuffed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory handcuffs smut. As far as I’ve seen every Captain Swan smut fic compilation includes at least one such lemon so I thought I’d try my hand (Even if this is supposed to be a collection of Killian vs. the modern world stories, but I like to think he had at least a little trouble getting out of the unfamiliar/modern handcuffs Emma used on him in the hospital). Mainly PWP.
> 
> Remember, my stories are also available on FFN (username: SnappleApple11) so check them out over there too!  
> Disclaimer: No characters are mine

Emma’s hands ghosted along his naked chest, teasing the hairs that covered the taut muscles there and his breath caught in his throat at the fleeting touch. He had noticed she loved playing with the dark hairs sprinkled across him, and that she always paid extra attention to the way his muscles shifted under his skin at the feel of her fingers. 

Killian knew she was straddling his bare hips, could feel the heat of her hovering above him. But he couldn’t see her, blindfolded as he was by a silken scrap of cloth that blocked his view of the glorious woman atop him. With his sight obscured his thoughts ran wild imagining how Emma looked perched above him. Was she still clothed, he wondered? Or was she as wonderfully naked as he? Perhaps she was wearing some of that delectable lingerie he fancied her in? 

Every touch was magnified and every slight movement against the bed sheets sent tingling bolts of pleasure racing through him. Even the pain of his teeth biting into his lip as he fought the urge to be as vocal as he wanted was amplified. 

It wouldn’t do to have the neighbors complain of noise. Emma and Killian were lucky enough to have the loft to themselves for the night, with Henry staying at Regina’s, and Mary Margaret and David bringing Neal on his first camping outing. Killian didn’t want their precious time alone together to be cut short because he couldn’t keep his voice down. 

He couldn’t stop the small groans that escaped him though. Not when she was deliberately floating her hands just a hairs breadth over him. Occasionally she used a slightly firmer touch, playing with his senses. It was often enough to keep him on his toes and fully aware of her every move, but rare enough that she left him shivering and eager for more contact. 

Her hand smoothed the air over his stomach and his hands involuntarily moved to reach for her, only to be stopped by the handcuffs she used to restrain him to the headboard in the first place. Emma giggled at his moan of complaint and kept her hands moving along his body, never holding them still over any one part for long. 

“You want something, Killian?” She asked, voice breathless and teasing. 

“I want you to touch me love. To really touch me and feel me.” Killian groaned with need and tried to lift his hips to meet hers, only to be met with air and another melodious peal of laughter. 

It was her bloody handcuffs that had started this whole thing. Earlier that day she had confessed it to be a fantasy of hers, having him restrained like this. At the time Killian had let a slow smirk etch its way across his face and lowered his eyes in the way he knew made her heart flutter, and asked her if she had fantasized about him in such a vulnerable position when she first cuffed him on top of the beanstalk or during his stay in the Storybrooke hospital. 

Her crimson blush had been answer enough and he had found himself excited at the prospect of being completely at her mercy. 

But now her teasing touches were driving him insane. He was hard as a rock and desperate for her and she hadn’t done more than divest him of his clothes and ghost her fingers along his skin. 

“Hmm, well, you’ve been good so far, I think you deserve a little reward.” The sudden scrape of her nails against his chest, along his nipples and the underside of pecs, was amplified from her teasing, but was nothing compared to the wet drag of her tongue against his throat, licking its way up the column until it reached his mouth. He lifted his face and met the warm softness of her lips in a hard and needy press, which she answered with a harder press of her own against his mouth. 

Emma forced his lips open and slid her tongue inside, playing within the cavern and battling his tongue briefly. Killian took advantage of her presence there and sucked lightly on her tongue, earning him a moan from the woman above him as she clenched her fingers against his chest. 

All too soon she pulled back and tsked at him. “I said a little reward. But that greedy mouth of yours… You’re just asking to be punished now.”

“From reward to punishment so quickly? Whatever have I done to deserve such treatment?” Killian asked sarcastically, a smirk on his face. 

He could just imagine her expression right now. Her eyes would be failingly admonishing and dark with desire. The evergreen orbs were probably dancing along his form, contemplating the best ‘punishment’ for him and he expected to have to last through several more moments of fleeting touches until she made her move. 

But Emma surprised him by quickly shifting away. He could feel her slinking down his body with determined intent, the drag of her hardened nipples and bare breasts along his skin leaving him to groan and arch his back toward her, desperate for more contact. Her lips skimmed his hips and her hands slid along his thighs, running the length of them and reaching so achingly close to his throbbing cock, but dancing away at the last moment. 

“Gods love,” Killian groaned. It was more torturous than her fleeting touches had been. Now he had her almost where he needed her and the closest she had come so far was to brush her lips through the curls at his base and ghosting her breath over his tightening balls. 

It nearly sent him over the edge right then when she reached out to grasp him firmly, pumping his length in achingly slow strokes. He moaned half in relief at the contact and half in frustration at being built up once again to that golden crest of pleasure without the chance to fall over. 

“Darling, if this is your idea of punishment it’s not much incentive to behave,” What was supposed to sound like his usual cocky self instead came out far needier than he meant, but he couldn’t find it in him to care, so long as she never stopped touching him like this, no matter how torturous. Restrained as he was he couldn’t reach for her and he didn’t dare move his hips against her hands stroking. He must have been a masochist of some sort to enjoy such deprivation. 

Killian could practically hear the smirk in her voice. “We’ll see how you feel about your ‘punishment’ soon enough pirate.”

She continued to kiss and nip at the sensitive skin of his hips and brought her other hand to lightly stroke his balls. The slow, firm stroke of her hand on his throbbing member was languid and unhurried. It played with his sense of time and made him feel as though he’d been at her mercy for hours already. 

The only thing that kept him grounded was her voice, her beautiful voice telling him every dirty thing he could ever want to hear fall from her lips. “You’re so fucking hard, you’re going to feel so good inside me. You always do,” She said; breathe hot against his skin and nose brushing the base of him. “Stretching me the way only you can. I’m always so full when I’m with you.” 

He could only groan his approval, already remembering how wet and tight she always was around him when he took her. Usually Killian was the one who talked the most in bed, and he loved watching his Swan flush at some of his more colorful descriptions. But he found he liked this change up. Her words combined with the blindfold and his restraints fueled his imaginings of her and he had to force his hips not to buck up against her, lest she pull her hand away from him. 

“Have I ever told you that you make it so hard to focus on anything else when your shirt is half open all the time? It makes me want to do this every time I see you.” 

Emma kept stroking his cock in hard but slow strokes, and he felt her slide up his body, smoothing her other hand along his chest to support her. Her tongue licked its way up the center of his torso and made a path to his nipple, where she took the bud into her mouth and swirled her tongue around it. She punctuated every continued tug of her hand on his cock with a bite against his nipple, and Killian dropped his head back against the pillow, wrists pulling helplessly on the handcuffs. 

“Bloody hell, Emma! More please!”

“I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” She continued, mouth vibrating against his skin. “Completely wrecked and at my mercy. Begging me to finally let you tip over the edge.”

He vaguely realized that the hand not holding his length had gone mysteriously absent and it wasn’t until he felt Emma’s harsh breathing and moaning against the sensitive skin on the underside of his pec that he realized what she was now doing. 

She was touching herself while stroking him. 

Emma slid further up his body, breasts reversing their earlier drag against his skin, until she could place her mouth by his ear. When she spoke every puff of air hit him deliciously and her voice came out as needy as Killian felt. 

“My fingers have nothing on your cock, but as long as I remember exactly how you touch me then I can- Oh fuck!” Bloody fuck, she was fingering herself? Gods how he wished he could be watching her right now. Watch the smooth glide of her digits in and out of her heat as she brought herself to her peak. 

“Fuck, Killian, I just have to- have to curl my fingers where you do inside me and I- Oh yes!” Her voice broke with every stroke she gave herself and he could just imagine how tight her walls must have been by then. Had she found that spot inside herself yet? The one he twisted his fingers for and rubbed mercilessly when he was the one bringing her higher? 

“Tell me more, love. I need to hear you. Are you riding your delectable fingers? Or are you playing with your clit too?”

“I am now. Holy shit, I’m thumbing it like you do, in those circles that you make on me and it’s… Oh God, so good!” 

Killian felt her trembling and knew she was close. Her hand had lost its earlier languid rhythm against his cock and started making jerkier movements that had him dangling from his own peak. He knew she would come first, and he wanted her to. He wanted to hear her fall apart for him even if he couldn’t see her or touch her while she did. 

“You’re so close Emma. Let go, love.”

She fell apart at his words, hips rutting into her hand and banging into her other hand still held between them, no longer holding his cock hostage. Her lips latched onto his neck in an effort to quiet herself but she couldn’t completely muffle the cries of pleasures that escaped her. Every moan of hers sent vibrations racing through him and his imagination was wild with thoughts of how utterly wrecked and debauched she must have looked in that moment. Her hair would be stuck to her sweat slick brow, eyes lidded with the aftermath of release, content smile gracing her lips, and she would be more beautiful than ever.

His already throbbing cock hardened further at the image. 

Moments later Killian felt her fingers slide into his mouth and tasted her essence, the tangy flavor exploding over his tongue. He licked the digits clean and groaned when she finally pulled them from his warm cavern. He felt her lips curve into a smile against the love bite she had just made on his neck amid the puffs of air she was so desperately swallowing. 

She lifted herself up and Killian shivered at the sudden chill and loss of her, but when he felt Emma’s heat hovering over his hips once again he realized her intentions and moaned loudly. 

“I can’t wait to take you inside me,” She breathed from above him. “I’m so wet just thinking about you. I can never get enough of you.”

“Nor I you, love. Please, I need you so much.” 

He felt her take hold of him to guide his cock inside her and then she sank down on him all at once. Emma immediately set a brutal pace, which Killian was grateful for, as he wasn’t sure how much longer he could have held off his own climax. The intensity and speed of her thrusts was such a stark contrast to her earlier hand strokes, which had been slow and methodical, meant to keep the pleasure humming through his veins but never building enough to send him over. 

But now as she rode him, one hand flat on his chest and hips slamming down on his to drive his member deeper inside her, he felt the pleasure beginning to boil over all too soon. 

“Fuck, Killian, feel so good inside me! So big and hitting me right where I need- Oh God!” She cried out on a particularly hard thrust and Killian moaned in time with her. 

He was so close, that glorious edge tauntingly closer than it had been all evening after the teasing touches and hard strokes of her hand on his length. It was all he could do to hold off for even a few more seconds until Emma reached the edge too. 

She must have sensed his inevitable release, because he felt her other hand move achingly close to where they were joined and somewhere in the back of his mind he realized she was rubbing her clit in time with her thrusts. Emma’s movements grew shakier but no less intense until she finally let out a cry signaling her climax.

Killian lifted his hips up to meet hers and help her ride out her orgasm, grunting at the feeling. Emma’s release triggered his, and the tightening of her walls milked him dry with their every continued thrust together. The lights behind his eyes flashed as his every sense was focused solely on the feel of her and the blissful abandon she brought to him. The euphoria crashed over him in a single tidal wave of sensation, sweeping over him and leaving him happily stranded on a beach of blissful aftermath, warm and sated.

When Killian came back down from his high he felt Emma curled up on top of him. Her breasts were pressed deliciously against his chest, legs still straddling his, and his cock still buried deep inside her, only just starting to soften. She panted against his neck and kissed whatever skin she could reach before pulling the blindfold away from his eyes. 

He looked at her for the first time since they had started and smirked, absolutely adoring how ruined she looked. Her hair was in complete disarray and her beautiful green eyes were tired but satisfied. 

He leaned down as far as he could with his hands still cuffed above him and kissed her hard and fierce, wanting another taste of her. Their tongues danced together briefly until she pulled back and moved over him to release the handcuffs, his member finally sliding out of her. The position left her breasts dangling near his mouth and he gave in to the urge to flick his tongue on the pebbled peaks, taking the flesh in his mouth to suckle when she moaned at the contact. 

“God Killian, you are insatiable, you know that?” She was doing a spectacularly poor job of seeming at all annoyed with him. Instead Killian noticed a certain eager fire return to her voice, and he knew their evening was only just beginning. 

“No more than you, princess. I only aim to please. Speaking of which…” As soon as his arms were free he brought the limbs to wrap tightly around Emma’s back, bringing her chest fully towards his waiting mouth. He took advantage of her momentary surprise and rolled her onto her back with him on top. Killian licked and nipped at her generous bust for several moments before lifting his gaze to her flushed and panting face. He lifted the handcuffs now dangling from his hand, eyes darkening in clear intent. 

“I do believe it’s my turn to please you, love?”


	9. Jokester

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone else absolutely die during the last episode? Because I did. So many feelings. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Totally not mine

“Let me see if I have this right lad. There’s an entire genre of humor in this land related to pirates?” Killian’s stare was disbelieving but curious. 

“I dunno if ‘genre’ is the right word, but there are tons of jokes! Like uh… Hold on, give me a sec…”

These family dinners at Granny’s were always entertaining but random affairs to Killian, at least in terms of conversation. Topics of discussion ranged from current villain affairs to baby Neal’s latest exploratory efforts. Today it was themed jokes. Specifically pirate-themed jokes. While Killian thought he had a fairly good idea of where the humor might end up, he wasn’t sure why Henry thought dirty jokes would be at all appropriate to share at a table with his grandmother and infant uncle. 

“How about this one,” Mary Margaret chimed in, bouncing Neal against her shoulder. “What sort of looks do pirates give each other? Plank stares! Huh? Huh?”

Killian looked at her completely lost while Henry could only twist his lips uncomfortably. Even Neal was oddly silent in the face of his mother’s usual enthusiasm and giddiness. That certainly wasn’t what he’d been expecting in terms of humorous attempts, but if Henry’s expression was anything to go by then it wasn’t quite the norm to him either. Although it was certainly more tame than what Killian had been imagining. 

“Oh come on, that was funny! I can be funny!” Mary Margaret insisted. 

It was at that moment David and Emma returned to the table with everyone’s post-dinner coffees and hot chocolates. “Mom, you’ve had funny moments, but I don’t think your usual sarcasm is enough to make you a stand-up comic,” Emma said, sliding into the seat next to Killian and wrapping her arm around his waist as discretely out of her parents view as possible. Killian took the opportunity to wrap his hooked arm around her waist in return. 

“Fine, so I’m not a stand up comic, but let’s just all agree we know where Emma really gets her snarkiness,” Mary Margaret insisted, bristling but taking a proud sip of her hot chocolate.

David was quick to defend her. “Just because Henry and our resident pirate didn’t laugh doesn’t mean I don’t think you can be funny, because I do,” He assured his wife, planting a quick kiss atop her head before settling into the chair at the end of the table with his coffee. 

“Well thank you David. At least someone thinks so.”

“Ooh! I got one! What’s a pirate’s favorite letter?” Henry jumped excitedly in his seat, surprising Killian and everyone else. 

“It’s ‘arr’ kid, that’s an easy one,” Emma insisted, exaggerating her ‘arr’ in a way that only confused Killian. Did people actually say that? ‘Arr’?

Henry shook his head. “You’d think it was ‘arr’ but it’s actually ‘sea’! Get it? Like ‘c’ the letter but actually ‘sea’ the ocean?”

“Hehe, yeah, I got it.” That one earned a chuckle out of Emma and her father. It even managed to crack a small smile across Killian’s face. 

“I think I see what you’re on about now lad with these themed jokes.” They weren’t incredibly funny, but Killian found himself enjoying the child-like play on words all the same. He let himself revel in the merriment of the group and atmosphere, in the innocence of the jokes, in Emma wanting to be close to him, and especially in her thumb rubbing nonsensical and distracting circles on his hip. 

“Hey Henry, where do pirates store their clothes?” David asked, getting into the spirit of it. 

“I dunno, where?”

“Davy Jones Locker!”

“What’s the smelliest part of a pirate ship? The poop deck!” Henry said, answering his own joke before anyone had time to respond. 

They continued on like that, throwing jokes and puns at each other at a rapid fire pace. Even Emma started throwing in quips every so often. “How much did the pirate’s earrings cost? A buck-an-ear!” 

“You know what a buccaneer is?” Henry responded. 

“Henry, I think I know what it-” Emma started to say. 

“A great price for an ear of corn!” The jokes came faster and faster and it was difficult not to laugh at them all. 

“What’s a pirate’s favorite kind of fish? A goldfish!” Even Mary Margaret’s jokes were finally earning laughs. Killian could feel Emma shaking against him and knew he wasn’t faring much better, their hold’s around each other tightening with every chuckle and attempt at restraining their laughs.

“What did the pirate say when his ship crashed into an iceberg?” David asked, just a little out of breath.

“Shiver me timbers?” Henry answered rapidly.

“Shiver me timbers!”

“What did the ocean say to the pirate captain? Nothing, it just waved.”

“What are pirates afraid of? Termites!”

The evening wore on and drinks not consumed went cold. With all the jokes and puns being thrown across the table, no one noticed it was soon time for Neal to be put to bed until he started fussing loudly, interrupting the steady stream of humor.

Henry went back to the apartment with his grandparents, leaving Emma and Killian on their own at the table. The diner had nearly emptied, with only the muted clatter of Ruby cleaning up in the kitchen to fill the otherwise quiet space. 

“I must say love, those jokes were enjoyable but far more tame than I was expecting.”

“What do you mean?” Emma asked, turning to face him.

“Well innocence and pirates don’t exactly belong in the same sentence in the Enchanted Forest. Any wordplay involving pirates usually occurs in less reputable establishments.”

The corners of Emma’s mouth quirked upward. “You were thinking they’d be a bunch of dirty jokes, huh?”

He chuckled at that. “Can you honestly blame me, lass? I was worried when the lad brought up the jokes in the first place. He’s growing up but it’s hardly the sort of thing one shares in the presence of family and infants.”

“True, but pirates as you know them haven’t been around in this world for a long time. It’s kinda easy to romanticize it and make jokes,” Emma explained, moving closer to him and sliding her hand under his shirt, her cold fingers meeting his heated skin. “It’s also easy to make other kinds of games out of it.” Her gaze dropped and Killian suddenly felt her eyes burning a line down his body. 

“Swan?”

“Want me to uh, hoist your sail pirate?” She asked, voice full of promise and heat that sent shivers through him and had his lips curling upward in a knowing smirk. 

“Only if you let me go below your deck.” 

“You’re gonna ‘swab’ my deck?”

“I’d clean it right up, love. You and I both know just how filthy it can get down there.” He licked his lips slowly, watching her eyes follow the movement. 

“You could dock your ship in port,” She responded, eyes still locked on his lips and hand moving daringly low on his stomach. 

“Hmm, and pillage and plunder as I pleased,” Killian responded, lowering his voice in the way he knew drove her crazy. “Perhaps even drop anchor in your southern seas.” He moved his hand to run along the top of her thighs, occasionally dipping it inward and upward, marveling at how her legs parted just so as he did. 

She threw him a teasing look. “Sure you could handle the storms on those seas? I hear they get pretty rough this time of year?”

So that was how she wanted to play, Killian thought, his pants tightening in anticipation. “Oh I look forward to any roughness. The sea is a wild temptress, but I’ll weather any storm that leads me to the safety of your harbor, Swan.”

Emma looked up at him, eyes still glazing over with lust but mixed with warmth for a moment before her gaze grew mischievous and her lips curled into a smirk. She pulled away from him and stood at the head of the table, arms open in obvious invitation. 

“What do you say Captain? Wanna set sail?”

Killian groaned at her implications and moved after her, pulling her towards the stairs to his rented room. “Prepare to be boarded love.”


	10. Speaker Phone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of a funny thing that popped into my head after tonight’s episode. Super short. Cell phones.

Killian had overcome many an obstacle in his never-ending quest to adapt to life in Storybrooke, but perhaps his current greatest achievement, in his mind anyway, was his proficiency with the talking phone. Granted he only ever had to push the Emma button to call her, but he was more proud of himself for learning how it worked, which was more than he could say for many of this world’s creations. 

As far as he had figured out and been told, talking phones were all about the invisible waves and signals that flew from them and through the air, connected by the different frequencies of their sounds that bounced around to strange objects high in the sky and… Uh…

Ok, so he didn’t quite have a grasp on it just yet, but he was working his way there. At the very least he had learned how to create new contacts in the phone and set up specific ring tones for people. It was more than he could say for when he had first been gifted the strange brick from Emma several weeks before. 

A melody of crashing waves and chattering sea gulls echoed in the air and Killian recognized it as the ring tone he had picked out for Emma’s phone; The sound of his beloved sea for the woman he loved. He sometimes thought about changing it because answering the device for Emma meant no longer listening to the oceanic shoreline tune, but listening to the tune meant not hearing Emma’s sweet voice. 

He chose Emma every time. 

“Emma?”

“Killian! Finally! I couldn’t get a signal for forever and it just- Whatever, listen, we’re all on our way back to Storybrooke. Me, Regina, Lily, Robin, Roland, and um… Zelana.”

“The Wicked Witch is with you?” He knew that they wanted to bring Robin and Roland back to Storybrooke so they could be safe from Zelena, so why bring Regina’s half-sister back with them? Something must have happened in New York and he had a feeling he would find out what it was when Emma returned. 

He heard Emma sigh and wished he could be there with her to smooth out the worrying creases he knew would be forming on her forehead. “It’s complicated,” She supplied. 

In the background he could hear arguing between two women, one which sounded like Regina, and another he didn’t recognize who had to be the Lily lass from Emma’s moving picture box. 

“But who is she talking to?” Lily’s muffled voice was oddly discernible through the phone, and Killian realized that Emma had put him on what she had called ‘speaker phone’. That was another trick he had learned for his own talking phone. 

“For the last time, it’s her boyfriend, captain guyliner.” Even from his end of the phone line he could feel the irritation rolling off Regina as she practically spat the word ‘boyfriend’ out. She was likely still perturbed by the recent developments involving Robin and Zelena, so he didn’t blame her, he only wished she had chosen a different way of describing his connection with Emma to Lily. ‘Boyfriend’ was hardly as impressive in Killian’s mind as Henry’s declaration that he and Emma were ‘together’. 

He heard Lily scoff. “Guyliner? He wears make up? Who the hell was this guy in fairy tale land? A dancer?”

Emma’s melodious voice cut in, annoyed, but clear. “It’s not make up, it’s- Oh forget it. Killian, how is everything back there? Is Henry doing ok?” 

Killian smiled. “He’s fine love. Still avoiding his math homework like a bloody plague but otherwise quite content. I’ll let him know you and the Queen are on your way back.”

Lily cut in just then, surprise coloring her voice. “He has an accent too? This boyfriend of yours is a fairy tale character that wears make up and has an accent? And you said he wasn’t part of this whole town curse? Seriously, who the hell was this guy?”

Emma ignored her and returned to talking to Killian. “We’ll be back late this afternoon. I’ll call you when we get a bit closer.”

“Looking forward to it, love. Be safe, alright lass?”

Before Emma got a chance to reply he heard Regina trying to fill in the blanks for Lily to satisfy her curiosity. “The handless wonder is a pirate, if you must know.”

“Handless fairy tale pirate… You’re dating Captain Hook?!”

“Can we not do this now Lily?” Emma pleaded, but Lily didn’t sound keen on letting it go. 

“Captain fucking Hook! What is that even like? A waxed moustache and a perm? How does someone even maintain that kind of grooming on a pirate ship?”

“Lily! Not now!”

The call ended abruptly and Killian was left listening to a low humming noise for several moments, suddenly very glad he was not in Emma’s yellow land vessel lest he face a deluge of inquisition. 

He shook his head in disbelief at the strangeness of the conversation and his thoughts turned to one of the points that had been brought up. “I really do need to learn what the bloody hell a ‘perm’ is,” Killian decided.


	11. Gym

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt/Request: Killian goes to the gym. This was one of the earlier requests I got and I apologize a bazillion times over for this taking so goddamn long to get out! Enjoy!

After losing control of her magic during the Snow Queen incident and with the alarming frequency of villains showing up in Storybrooke, Emma had decided to amp up not only her magical training with Regina, but her physical training as well.

“I’ve been getting lazy,” She had told Killian that morning. “And sloppy. I need to get back into the swing of things, start running again, hitting the punching bag, using the weights.”

“If you’re so desirous of exercise darling I’d be happy to uh, help, in any way I can,” Killian had replied, eyes locking obviously onto her lips and blazing a trail down her body.

“Any way at all?” She smirked knowingly. 

“Aye, love.” Killian stepped into her space ready to kiss her senseless if she tipped her head up just so. “Any way at all,” He breathed. 

A wicked smile graced her lips and just as Killian thought she was going to meet his kiss she took a decisive step back, walking away from him and out of the room. “Well I could use a running buddy tomorrow morning if you’re interested?”

He had been left standing there, a little startled at her abrupt departure, but smiled and chuckled. “As you wish love!” He called out to her, smiling wider when he heard her laughter ring through the walls of their apartment. 

The next morning was a rainy one, and Emma had suggested they go to the gym instead of trying to run outside. He eagerly agreed, still unsure just how going to a ‘gym’ would allow them to go for a run together, but so long as they were doing it together he didn’t honestly care. 

“So a ‘gym’ is a sort of indoor training yard then?” Killian asked as they left the apartment, him wearing the odd but stretchy garments Emma had found for him for this latest adventure, and her wearing an oddly loose shirt and unbearably small pants she called ‘shorts’ underneath her rain jacket.

Emma shrugged. “I guess? I mean, that’s probably the best comparison, but it’s not like we’re gonna be using swords or anything like that. It’s not exactly a place to learn to duel like knights.”

“A training yard in a castle is meant for all combat instruction, love.”

“Yeah, but most people in this realm don’t go to the gym to get ready for a fight.”

“Last night you mentioned wanting to hit a punching bag. Does that not apply as combat preparation?” Killian reasoned. 

Emma turned to consider him briefly. “Ok, so this is kinda fight prep, even if we’re really just gonna be running today. Most people nowadays use the gym to get in shape. They lift weights, work up a sweat, and maybe earn an extra cookie, that sort of thing.”

“A place where people ‘work up a sweat’?” Something about the way that sounded didn’t sit right with Killian, and now, entering the non-descript gym building, he was beginning to question his initial readiness. 

“You said you wanted to come with me,” She said noticing his expression, his nose twisted uncomfortably. 

“Aye, that I did Swan. And I still do. I only didn’t expect it to be in such an uh…” Killian waved his hand in the air vaguely, searching for a polite word to describe the abhorrent stench wafting into his nose. “An odoriferous establishment.”

Emma raised an eyebrow at him. “Is that you trying to say ‘smelly, sweat-stained, pig-sty’ in a nice way?”

Killian shrugged, smiling in defeat. “I’m fairly certain long months at sea never left the crew in such a ripened state as this.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of, love. Over-exposure to such a place could leave a man nose-blind.”

The interior of the building was a large expanse filled with the scent of over-heated, sweating bodies, and what looked to be a handful of rooms tucked into the side. Various odd-looking pieces of equipment littered the floor and Killian couldn’t make heads or tails of any of them. If the sounds coming from several people using the equipment were any indication though, then it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to think they were all elaborate forms of torture. 

Thankfully, Emma did not subject him to the curious contraptions. Instead, she walked them both over to a set of mats by the wall that sat in front of several full-length mirrors, saying she wanted to stretch before running. As they reached the mats, Killian caught sight of a nearby door to one of the few closed rooms in the building, noticing through the door’s window that there was another expansive space inside where people seemed to be stretching and twisting their bodies into what should have been painful contortions. 

“Swan, if you wanted to stretch why not use that room there? There are others inside stretching and they look to be rather… flexible,” He suggested.

Emma glanced to where he pointed and shook her head. “No, that’s a yoga class. You might wanna get more warmed up before you try that. We can stretch and warm up out here though.”

“Yoga? That thing you do with Mary Margaret some weekends? That’s yoga?” Killian’s mind raced; supplanting a thousand and one decidedly less than innocent images of Emma posed much like the people inside the room, only with far less clothing and in the privacy of their apartment. 

Emma caught his smirk before he even realized it adorned his face. “Oh no, I know that look.”

“Why Swan, whatever do you mean? I’m simply curious as to the alternative uses of such an exercise as yoga.” Killian feigned innocence. “I’m also curious when you’ll be going for another session. Will you be wanting another massage afterward?” He let his voice drop and watched, delighted, when he caught Emma bite her lip nervously. 

“Depends if you’re good or not,” She teased, unable to stop her own lips from curling upwards as she turned back to the mats. “Let’s stretch and do some abs before we run.”

Killian followed Emma’s lead, mimicking the bends and turns of legs and arms that she insisted would keep him injury free. He felt a little like one of those pretzels Henry had shown him. He still maintained that preparing for a fight was a tad ridiculous because you were either ready for a fight or you weren’t, but he had to admit he certainly felt looser after the stretching, even if it did take far longer than he would have thought necessary. 

He saw Emma lie down on her back, knees bent up, and start to lift herself to a seated position before lowering herself back down to the floor and repeating the movement. He wasn’t entirely sure how applicable such a movement would be as an exercise to prepare anyone for a fight, but he trusted she knew what she was doing and followed her lead, lying down on the mat only to fold himself upward and in half, over and over again. 

“They’re crunches,” She explained. “Or sit ups, I think. I never get those names right.”

“This all seems rather repetitive love,” He commented, losing count of how many of these crunch exercises they had completed. “And these are meant to strengthen the muscles of the stomach, yes?”

“Basically yeah. It’s mostly just to warm up, get the blood going. We’ll be done here soon,” She told him between breaths. 

Emma’s definition of ‘done’ apparently did not coincide with Killian’s, and more than once he was left wondering just how much longer they would be curling themselves into upright balls. Not that he would ever admit it, but his stomach was starting to ache just a little. 

She did stop them eventually; his stomach silently thankful, and he followed her to a row of nearly identical machines arranged in a line across the gym floor that each had flat platforms and a series of buttons lining a podium at the front. They looked simpler than the other machines he had seen several gym patrons grunting on earlier and he let out a grateful sigh.

“These are treadmills. We’re gonna run on them. You just press these buttons here and you can control the speed and go as fast or slow as you want,” She explained, pushing several buttons on the machine she stood on. 

Killian watched, fascinated, as the flat bottom of the machine moved under her feet and Emma started to walk and then run on top of it, all at once moving without actually moving forward. 

“So you run in place then?” He asked.

“Pretty much.”

“I think I understand the meaning of the name now; Tread-mill, a circle for ceaseless walking. This reminds me of that gerbil wheel your mother showed me at Henry’s school, constantly moving but never going anywhere.”

Emma chuckled at that. “Yeah, it is kinda like that. I’d rather run outside but when it’s raining the treadmill is actually pretty good. You can go as far as you want and if you want to run faster or slower than someone next to you then you can do it and still be together next to them.”

Killian smiled, and started pushing at the buttons on the treadmill machine he stood on next to Emma’s. He pressed the buttons, watching the little numbers next to the buttons jump higher and higher. He had no idea how high he was supposed to push these numbers. He gathered they correlated to the speed of the ground now moving under his feet but there was no descriptor as to what the 5.4 or 6.6 meant, so he pressed on, the numbers rising faster. Soon Killian was running on the moving ground without moving forward. It was perhaps one of his more disorienting experiences in this realm so far, and took a moment to grow accustomed to. 

Unfortunately for Killian, he didn’t pull his finger away from the button fast enough and he was soon sprinting on the strange machine, his eyes frantically searching for a way to slow down before he lost control entirely. 

Emma noticed his distress before he had a chance to say anything, quickly reaching over and smashing her finger onto another button, slowing the rotating ground beneath Killian’s feet to a more comfortable jog.

She tossed him a relieved look. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, we’re gonna be here for a bit. Ok? Don’t need to sprint the whole time.”

He shot her a sheepish, if grateful, smile. “As you say, love. Err, how long is ‘a bit’ exactly?”

“About five miles?”

He shot her a disbelieving look. Killian couldn’t recall a single time he had ever needed to run for five bloody miles all at once, not in all his years of piracy or on Neverland. He would be the first to admit that a ship was not exactly a long distance to travel and that while Neverland was expansive and vast at times it wasn’t necessary to run it’s length ever. The Lost Boys certainly never lasted longer than a mile or two, let alone five. 

So while Emma held a steady pace for her five mile run, Killian took his run in intervals, with a few minutes of running and sprinting, a short distance of walking, then repeating for the entire time. It was an odd feeling, to be running with no threat of danger, no one chasing after him, and no immediate threat to his life or Emma’s. There was something oddly cathartic about just moving without fear, and Killian thought that maybe this whole running thing wasn’t so bad, especially if he got to do it with Emma. 

By the time Emma declared her five-mile run over, Killian realized he had sweat a great deal during his own run, and managed to stop his treadmill on his own. He was sorry to say he was probably now contributing to the overwhelming stench of the building. He lifted the bottom of his shirt, exposing his stomach and using the cloth as a makeshift towel to wipe a line of sweat from his brow. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Emma watching him, her eyes wide and gaze hungry.

He smirked. “See something you like darling?” 

Emma tried and failed to fight the upward curl of her lips and the further reddening of her cheeks while Killian chuckled. 

“Well love, now that I’m a right mess, what would you have of me?”

“I did say we were just gonna run today, and I could definitely use a shower,” She said, a contemplative expression on her face. 

“A shower does sound rather tempting, especially if you’re involved, Swan.”

“But you know, they say it’s important to stretch before and after exercise, even get a massage…” She told him with a smirk, letting her gaze wander down his body heatedly before rising back to meet his stormy blue eyes. 

He answered with a smirk of his own. “If the lady wishes for a private massage I’m sure that could be arranged.”

“Who said anything about me getting the massage? Maybe I want to be on the giving end this time?”

Killian groaned at the mental image of her on top of him, running her hands deliciously all over his body, finding every sensitive spot on him. “Gods, lead on Swan.”


	12. Book Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s probably been done but Belle and Killian start a book a club and their membership grows as time goes by. 
> 
> Spoilers for the books ‘Treasure Island’ and ‘The Count of Monte Cristo’ I guess?

Building a friendship with Killian Jones had been the last thing on Belle’s mind when she very literally ran into him in the library one afternoon. If anything, the only thing on Belle’s mind at the time was to make sure she didn’t trip over the pirate, who had commandeered the floor between the fiction and children’s sections and was surrounded by piles of open books from both. 

“I was searching for maps and star charts of this realm,” He had explained, hand nervously scratching behind his ear. “But I stumbled on this tale of a cat and two children home alone. Enlighten me, lass. Why exactly would a cat need a hat?”

Belle couldn’t help the smile that escaped her at his question, having tried to answer the same question for Will several weeks earlier, with only a little success. 

“Because a cat wearing a mat or a bat would be rather silly, don’t you think? Even for a rhyming children’s book?” She had replied with a smile. 

Hook had returned her smile with a grin, and quietly asked where he could find the maps he had come for in the first place. Belle pointed to a line of atlases several aisles off. Killian moved to pick up the piles of wayward books he had pulled down in his curiosity, and Belle knelt to help. Once they finished re-shelving the books he stood up and she would have been content to let him quietly go his way, but caught sight of a certain book at the bottom of the shelf and decided not to hold her tongue. Maybe someone as eager to read as Killian Jones clearly was would appreciate her skills and expertise as a librarian. 

“If you want a book to read you might try Treasure Island,” She suggested off-handedly, trying to sound casual but gauging his reaction to the suggestion. “It’s technically a children’s book but there’s a lot of surprising depth to it.” 

Belle held the book out for him and Hook shifted his eyes between her and the proffered text. “Is that your professional opinion?” He asked, eyebrow quirked up in consideration. 

She shrugged. “There’s not much of a line separating personal and professional for me when it comes to books and stories. If I recommend a book it’s because I like it and I want someone else to enjoy it too. Maybe even learn something from it.”

He watched her for a moment before his face lit up in acceptance. “I’ll bite,” He said casually, taking the book in hand. “If this book is as good as you seem to think then I may be back, lass.” Hook strolled out of the library, door softly shutting behind him as he turned down the street. 

From the way he had skipped past the maps and atlases all together, Belle briefly wondered if Hook hadn’t lied about coming into the library for maps in the first place, if maybe he’d been looking for a good book instead. 

Several days later she found him sitting alone in Granny’s, nursing a coffee and the last few pages of Treasure Island. She quietly approached him, ready to ask if he was enjoying the book, when Killian beat her to the punch and broke the silence between them with his own quarry.

“Jim doesn’t go back for the rest of the treasure?” He questioned out loud, before nodding his head in approval. “Smart lad. He’d make a decent pirate. Or at the very least he would survive a good while. A smart pirate knows when to cut his losses.”

“So you don’t think he ever went back for it? Not even years down the road?” Belle asked, still standing by his table. 

Killian shook his head. “No, I don’t. I’d say he made a comfortable living for himself out of what he took from the first haul. The lad was resourceful, there’s no reason to think he wouldn’t have made something of himself with that sort of financial security.”

Belle paused for a moment before asking her next question. “So what did you think of Long John Silver?”

“A man of dubious moral grayness with a soft spot for children acting as a mentor to the protagonist? Parts of him veered a tad close to the heart, I’ll admit, but he’s actually turned into a favorite of mine, given the descriptions of him and his character.”

“He’s a fascinating character, that’s for sure. Not the sort of grey-colored character you see in a children’s book,” Belle agreed. 

Killian looked at her appalled. “Is that all you have to say about the man? He’s an interesting character? Surely a bibliophile like you has more to say on the subject than that? Have a seat, lass. We need to hash this out,” Killian nodded to the chair across the table from him, Belle taking the offered seat. 

They spent the next several hours and three cups of coffee arguing and discussing the moral grayness of Long John Silver, the importance of the practical and virtuous Dr. Livesay, and the over-arching themes of the coming of age story as a whole. By the time evening had come around and they each realized they needed to be on their way, Hook was grinning at her in enjoyment of their discussion. 

“So the pirate approves then? Of my choice in books?” Belle asked, happy with the way the afternoon had turned out. 

“You took a gamble lass, giving me a book about pirates, but it paid off. Well done. What else have you got?”

Belle quickly learned that Killian Jones was a voracious reader. When she suggested he read the first Harry Potter book, he had been affable enough to the idea. But two days later she found him scouring the library shelves for the next book in the series, and another two days after that he was searching for the fourth book. Belle asked Emma about Killian’s seemingly insatiable reading habits but the sheriff just smiled widely, a sparkle coming to her eyes. 

“He uses them for answers,” Emma explained. “There’s so much about this world that Killian is still learning, all the cultural nuances and references and stuff. The books help him answer questions he doesn’t even know he has. I mean, you should’ve heard him and Henry at dinner the other night. They started separating Storybrooke citizens based on Hogwarts houses. Apparently you’re either a Ravenclaw or a Gryffindor?”

The next time Belle saw Hook at Granny’s, coffee and the seventh book laid out on the table, he loudly proclaimed Sirius Black to be one of his favorite characters ever, and insisted Belle join him in discussing the potential depth of J. K. Rowling’s use of star constellations and flowers as characters. 

With that meeting and another book recommendation, this time for The Little Prince, the Storybrooke Book Club was inadvertently formed. Killian and Belle met once a month at the same table in Granny’s, exchanging ideas and thoughts about their latest reads. The only unwritten rule was that the books they chose could not be about their world or anyone they knew. It made choosing stories rather difficult at times, considering the range of titles that the lives of their friends, family, and acquaintances covered. But over the months the two worked their way through countless classic titles; Don Quixote, The Road, Gone with the Wind, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It didn’t seem to matter what they read, they ate up every word and shared their thoughts eagerly and loudly at their table at Granny’s. Unfortunately for them, Granny herself seemed to think they were being a little too loud, but immediately silenced any complaints she had when Belle asked her to recommend their next book and join them at their next meeting. 

Granny was quick to suggest The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and even dragged Ruby along for the meeting. The two became regular attendees, providing more coffee, fresh perspective, and the first two additions to the ‘club’. 

One month, when Henry was assigned a book report at school on The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, it was Killian who suggested bouncing ideas off of the group members for his homework. 

“Are you sure this is entirely within the rules of Henry’s school? Couldn’t he get in trouble for not coming up with his own ideas?” Belle worried as Henry jotted down a particularly insightful set of notes from Granny about Mark Twain’s examples of hypocrisy of justice in ‘civilized’ society. 

“Don’t think of it in such rigid terms as being within or without of any rules. Think of it as utilizing resources,” Killian suggested. “Besides, the lad’s always been dead clever in his literature studies, and he’s only using this session as a means to find ideas. The analysis and writing will be all Henry, isn’t that right lad?” The pirate turned a meaningful eye toward the young man who was still scribbling quickly in his notebook.

Henry twisted his head toward Killian, eyes still locked on his pencil dancing across the page. “See? Rule compliant and book smart. I told you she was a Ravenclaw,” Henry said.

“Now lad, I thought we agreed she was a Gryffindor like your grandfather Dave,” Hook insisted. 

The next meeting saw Archie join up when Belle mentioned to him a passing fancy to read One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. 

“You really don’t mind reading about mental disorder and a, well, frankly a poorly run mental institution?” Granny had questioned, sounding genuinely intrigued at the doctor’s interest in the book. 

“Not at all. I mostly see it as a series of power struggles and character studies. Take Nurse Ratched for example. She’s tyrannical in her absolute control of this mental ward and a great antagonist for this story,” Dr. Hopper had insisted to them all. 

Killian’s response had been adamant and fast. “That Ratched woman is bloody wretched and terrifying. The sort to give a man nightmares till the end of his days.”

Archie had given Killian a sideways look that Belle was fairly certain he reserved for his patients when he was subtly trying to make them see things his way. “But doesn’t she have to be wretched, in order to make the points clearer? Without such a blatant antagonistic character Randle P. McMurphy wouldn’t have a worthy adversary. It would be him against an invisible system as the enemy. Ratched has to be that controlling for McMurphy and the other patients to figuratively beat the system.”

Hook had laughed loudly at that. “Cricket, you’re quite possibly off your rocker, but you make a fair point all the same.” 

As their latest book club meeting drew to a close, Belle asked everyone for a suggestion on the next book they should read, and was surprised when Killian decided to suggest a book, having never done so in any previous meeting. 

“The Count of Monte Cristo,” He said, fingers fidgeting on the table nervously. “Swan mentioned it might be a good story.” 

Belle had read the book before, knew Emma had too, and wondered if it being a ‘good story’ was all that Emma had said about the book. 

Everyone else in the group was on board with the idea though, and Belle could see the palpable relief wash over the pirate when his suggestion wasn’t rejected. 

“Well then, looks like we’re reading The Count of Monte Cristo,” Belle announced in finality. 

A month later, Killian led an impassioned discussion about his chosen book, focusing on the themes of vengeance, loss, and taking justice into one’s own hands with such gusto that Belle wondered how long he had been meaning to suggest the book to the group, and if maybe he hadn’t read it already before and just wanted someone to talk to about it. 

If anyone else in the group noticed his extra fervor about the book they didn’t say anything, only joined in with just as much zeal and enthusiasm. 

“The Count’s already lost his connection to humanity by then,” Ruby noted. “His quest for revenge cut him off from his emotional state, from his very humanity. He was already going to kill the three men for putting him in prison.”

Killian shook his head vehemently. “It’s the death of Faria that does him in. Faria’s affections for the Count tie him to his humanity and it’s only when Faria dies that Dantes loses that connection and desire to love and feel. Even then, Dantes goes on to perform several good deeds for those who were kind to him before his imprisonment, then he devotes himself entirely to his revenge with no way of redeeming himself.”

“But he had already set himself on the path to revenge by then,” Ruby said. “I’m not saying he couldn’t come back from it, I’m just saying that even while in prison he didn’t want to. He wanted his revenge more than he wanted to move forward.”

“Dantes was living in the past, you mean?” Archie chimed in. 

“Exactly!” Ruby exclaimed. 

Killian buzzed in. “So if he had perhaps joined up with one of the people he helped afterward, maybe that merchant whose ship he replaced, then he could have made a new name for himself? A new life? But instead he chose revenge and innocents were hurt even as he succeeded.” 

Listening to Killian argue and talk with the other group members Belle remembered what Emma had said before about Killian using the books as a means of learning about this realm. While that was definitely true, Belle was starting to realize that Killian was using the books just as much to learn more about himself, to come to terms with his own past. Reading stories of redemption, revenge, and adventure all helped him grow and find his own way in the world. They were an escape into a classroom of life, teaching him things he hadn’t known needed learning. 

Belle found herself smiling at the thought, because really, what were stories for if not learning?


	13. Al Gore's Internet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the reviewer who wanted Lily and Killian interacting. Lily wants some help expanding her search for her father’s identity, and asks the well-traveled Hook for some ideas, using the Internet as a fact check. Semi-crackish. Not speculative, just crackish humor. 
> 
> Takes place in yet another semi-AU where Emma is still in Storybrooke after 4b. I’m interested in what’ll happen with her as the new Dark One, but can you tell I’m not happy about Emma being M.I.A?

Lily slammed yet another book shut, the echo of the volume matching her frustration at hitting yet another dead-end. There was nothing here she could use. No amount of digging through dusty books was going to turn up a list of every dragon that had ever existed in the Enchanted Forest, and she didn’t feel entirely confident she would even recognize such a list assuming it existed at all. 

Trying to find information in the town library seemed like a no-brainer, but Lily was quickly finding that any books that might have been helpful to her were either too old to be safely handled, written in some foreign or vaguely fantastical language, or just didn’t exist. 

She huffed in frustration, and let her gaze wander across the library, hoping for some kind of miraculous inspiration, but all she saw were shelves and more shelves filled with the same books she had just decided were practically useless to her. And then there was the ancient looking desktop computer perched heavily by the front desk. The thing was still turning itself on almost thirty minutes after Lily had pressed the power button, still beeping and ringing and clicking in a way that Lily used to find melodious as a kid, but now found irksome as an adult. The contraption had to be at least twenty years old and time had yellowed the panels of the machine just like it did many of the books. Lily wouldn’t have been surprised if it had never seen a repairman or any kind of technical care since it’s magical placement in the library at the town’s creation. 

After several more minutes of blindly flipping through unhelpful books, the beeping stopped and Lily stood up from the aisle floor to stand behind the desk, checking the computer’s progress. Had she been anywhere outside of Storybrooke, Lily would have immediately used Google to find some clue as to her father’s identity. But being in the magical and technologically impaired Maine town meant books were turning out to be a faster option than technology was proving to be, much to the dismay of Lily’s 21st century search habits. 

By some miracle the computer had finally turned on, and to her great surprise it didn’t take quite as long for the Internet to start up and decide to connect. Typing in a basic search for dragons in fairy tales Lily sent up a silent thank you when a somewhat promising number of results popped up, only to audibly curse when said results turned out to be utterly useless. Articles about Smaug from The Hobbit littered the page next to links for paintings of Saint George Slaying The Dragon and scholarly articles about the metaphor of dragons hoarding princesses in cultures across the world. She tried another search, this one for dragons and Maleficent, only to yield even fewer helpful results that focused almost entirely on the Angelina Jolie movie, although there was one oddball result that linked to Puff The Magic Dragon.

Dear god, she hoped that last one wasn’t a real creature. 

More searches with more variants of the words fairy tale and dragon led to even worse results, and Lily grew more and more frustrated at the lack of progress. She grew so involved in her Internet search that she barely registered the sound of the door opening and shutting, letting someone into the library. It was only when she bothered to turn her head that she realized Emma’s pirate boyfriend had wandered inside and was currently scanning the shelves with a decidedly single minded intent. 

An idea struck Lily then. If her father were a dragon from fairy tale land, then the best person to ask for clues about him would probably be a well-traveled fairy tale character. 

“Hey Jones, you’ve kind of been around the block, right?”

The man jolted to awareness and but quickly regained his composure and turned toward her with a raised eyebrow. “I’ve been all around this town, lass, not just the neighborhood block, though I suspect that’s not what you’re referring to.”

Lily rolled her eyes at him. “I mean you’ve traveled to a lot of places?”

“Aye,” He answered, wary. “I apologize lass, I’m not certain what this is about. I was meant to be grabbing a book Belle suggested. You haven’t got The Hobbit hidden over there have you?”

Lily ignored his question in favor of furthering her own. “But you’ve met people and seen things and, uh, creatures?”

The pirate’s eyes lit up in understanding and he moved toward her with a knowing swagger in his step. “Ah, is that what this is about then? On a quest for a certain dragon and family relation?”

She shifted where she stood behind the desk, glad to have the barrier between them and just wanting a straight answer from the man. “Well, so what if I am?” She answered defensively. 

Jones leaned against the other side of the desk with a nonchalance that reeked of ego and Lily found herself wanting to hit the man. “I’ve run across a few, aye, but my apologies, I try to actively avoid them when possible. Fire-breathing and wooden ships are not the best of combinations even for a captain as skilled as myself, you understand.”

“But you’ve seen dragons? Where?”

“All sorts of dragons in all sorts of places. Some of which were decidedly less hostile than others, interestingly enough. Sadly, your mother was not one of those,” He intoned, hand running over the curve of his hook in a distracted manner. “But what good would that do you? I realize you’re searching for your father but what good will learning the names of countless dragons be if you’ve no other clue than an eggshell? It’d be rather like searching for your father if your only clue was to know he had blue eyes. It’s certainly not a common trait, I’ll give you, but it’s hardly a distinct searching point.”

Lily felt her temper start to flare and tamped it down. “It’d be a start,” She insisted. “I don’t know dragons. The only ones I know are from Game of Thrones and The Hobbit, and I think I can safely rule out Smaug as my father.”

“Smaug?”

“Seriously? You’re about to read the damn book and you don’t even… Whatever. Can you help me or not? I just want a list of dragons I can cross off, at least rule out a few and feel like I’m going somewhere with this search, you know what I mean?”

Jones was quiet for several moments and his entire demeanor changed. His posture still held the same nonchalance, but there was seriousness to him now that silently reassured Lily he actually was taking her request seriously. It considerably lessened the urge to hit him. “I think we can safely remove Neverland as a possible realm of origin, perhaps Wonderland too, but who knows. You’d need Will Scarlet or the Hatter for a better list of that realm’s inhabitants, if you truly wish to brave either of their company,” He suggested. 

The Hatter had to be the Mad Hatter, so that made sense, but why the hell would she want to talk to one of Robin Hood’s Merry Men about Wonderland? And since when was Wonderland even a real place? Was every fairy tale that she knew actually part of the Enchanted Forest?

Her confusion must have shown on her face because Jones paused his vocal musings and spoke directly to her instead. “Perhaps part of the problem is the narrowed range of your search, lass. You’re limited by your realm’s knowledge of the inhabitants of other realms, but people travel within and between realms more often than you realize. I certainly did.”

“So someplace like Neverland is it’s own realm and you’re not actually even from there?” She asked in disbelief. 

Hook looked mildly horrified at that. “Gods no. No one is actually from Neverland, not even Pan, that bloody demon. Emma tells me that in this realm, the stories of people from other realms are restricted to single tales, as if they could only ever exist within a singular world separate from all others. I’m afraid the reality is both more and less intertwined than you likely realize.”

“So what you’re saying is, I should just search for dragons from every single individual story and hope for the best? That searching for a general list of dragons in all fairy tales isn’t gonna cut it?” 

“Not unless you could somehow magic such a list to come into existence,” Jones sarcastically suggested, but Lily just raised an eyebrow at him in confusion. 

“I don’t need magic,” She stated obviously. “I’ve got the Internet. I just need the right key terms for a search, which is why I’m talking to you.”

The pirate visibly shuddered at her suggestion and his posture was suddenly less confident and more fidgety and wary than before. 

“What? Don’t like the internet?” She asked. 

“The magic box and I are not on the most agreeable of terms, I’m afraid,” He said vaguely, eyeing the computer as if he had every intention of digging his hook into the screen. 

“Why not? Computers and the 21st century go together like pirates and buried treasure. I refuse to believe that Emma got you to use a phone but hasn’t tried to teach you to use a computer.”

Even though he was standing nearly next to her, the way he mumbled in apparent embarrassment under his breath meant Lily could only catch his every third word or so. He muttered something about ‘hypnotic cat videos’ and ‘pages of lies’ that just left Lily more confused. 

She huffed at the man and lifted her fingers back to the keyboard, ready to type in her next fruitless search. “Just tell me about one of those dragons you saw. Where was it?”

The pirate shifted against the desktop to face her, keeping a small distance between him and the computer. “My crew and I once ran into a dragon whilst traveling to Agrabah with some, uh… ‘Acquired’ goods,” He started to say. Lily rolled her eyes at him again. 

“You’re a pirate, I get how ‘acquired’ goods work. Just tell me about the dragon,” She interrupted, deciding it was better not to question the apparent reality of Agrabah and maybe characters like Jafar and Aladdin being real. 

Jones shot her a bemused look before continuing. “The beast was more of an overgrown serpent than a dragon, truth be told. No wings that I could see. It may as well have been a sea serpent though, the way it dove and swam through the sand dunes. And it was decidedly venomous, so unless you suddenly develop a propensity for spitting venom, and given the rumors surrounding your apparent affinity for fire, I’m of a mind to think that you’re father was not of the venomous variety.”

Lily snorted at his story, fingers ceasing their flight across the keyboard. “Well that story is a fat sack of useless, so unless you’ve got any other bright ideas or tall tales I’m just gonna keep searching on my own.”

“Dragons come in all forms, winged and otherwise. You asked for dragons to be crossed off of a proverbial list, lass. I’m merely doing my part. And now you can likely remove any poisonous dragons from your future queries.” He answered far too smoothly for Lily’s liking, but she saw his point. That was exactly what she had asked him for help with, so she really couldn’t get mad at him for doing what she asked. 

Lily decided to type in some new clues about her possible father as she and Jones came up with them. For now, she entered the words ‘dragon’ and ‘fire’ into the search bar, not hitting enter just yet. “Fine, so dad’s not poisonous. Whoopie. What else do you have?”

“I should like to assume your dragon form isn’t an exact copy of Maleficent’s, so it’s likely that your father had wings of his own but that’s not necessarily absolute.” Lily almost typed in ‘wings’ or ‘flying’ but refrained. Jones took several moments to compose his thoughts, thinking out loud as he did. “Could likely rule out a sea dragon. And he’s not likely from Wonderland, or Neverland, and perhaps not Oz or a frozen kingdom like Arendelle,” He muttered, scrunching his forehead up in thought and then shrugging his shoulders. “The kingdom of Camelot has a great number of stories about dragons, although most of them pertain to the slaying of the beasts, I’m afraid, so I’m not certain…”

“Wait a second, Camelot’s real too?” She asked, incredulous. 

Jones smirked at her. “Ah, so you’ve heard of it then?”

“Who hasn’t?” Lily answered.

“I’ve heard rumor of the sorceress Morgan Le Fay turning into dragon form, although those might be unfounded.” Something in Jones’ expression shifted and he leveled her with a curious stare. “You’ve not heard of a man named Merlin, have you?”

“Heard of him? Obviously. Everyone knows the wizard Merlin just like everyone knows about the fairy Tinkerbell. Why? Is he a wizard slash dragon now?”

His features shifted again, this time to a softer, less inquisitive gaze. “Not that I’ve heard lass,” He answered, briskly pushing the subject aside. “Perhaps your father was a guardian dragon? I’ve heard tales of dragons, griffins, and other creatures that keep watch over certain families.”

Lily watched the pirate for a moment, wondering just why he was so eager to move the focus away from Merlin and Camelot all of a sudden, but not knowing how to broach the subject. 

“A guardian?” She asked, skeptical.

“Aye, it’s a possibility.”

“So, multi-generational family watchdog, but with magic?”

“Not necessarily magic, but again, it’s just a possibility lass. Several royal families in the Enchanted Forest have images of their old family guardians emblazoned on their royal crests. Some of which are dragons that I happen to know are quite long-lived.”

“Uh-huh,” She replied, skepticism still etched on her face. Lily typed in ‘family guardian’ into the Google search bar, just for kicks. 

“Well let’s see it then. Who does the magic box tell you your father is?”

There was really nothing new for her search, but with the terms ‘dragon’, ‘fire’, ‘family guardian’, Lily pressed search anyway, and was soon staring at the screen in disbelief. “Mushu.”

Jones’ eyes narrowed in confusion and he leaned forward to look at the screen over her shoulder. “Who? No, hang on, I know that name… Give us a moment, lass,” He struggled.

“Fucking Mushu?”

Jones snapped his fingers together in realization. “Mulan! That’s it! That’s whom I heard the name from! That was the dragon Mulan mentioned aided her and her family.”

Lily twisted to look at the pirate in disbelief. “Mulan? Hell no, there is no way she’s real too, and there’s definitely no way she’s a fairy tale character. She’s a legend from China for fucks sake!”

“Now you understand part of my displeasure with this magic box. It’s full of lies and falsehood. But I assure you the warrior is quite real and she has quite the sword arm. Just ask Emma,” Jones laughed at her. 

“But fucking Mushu? That little snake-dragon thing?”

“A snake? I wasn’t aware he was a snake. The way Mulan went on about him he sounded like a rather clever beast, or at least that lucky cricket did…”

She had asked for a list of dragons that she could cross of her potential dad-list, but instead, came to the very unfortunately real possibility that her dad may actually be a tiny snake dragon that sounded like Eddie Murphy. Something about that just didn’t sit well with Lily. 

As she stood there, staring at the computer screen, desperately trying to come up with some other search term to try and pull her mind from the dangerous path it was traveling down, the door to the library opened once more. The thump of a pair of heavy boots echoed along the floor but Lily didn’t turn her head to find out who had come inside until Jones called out happily in greeting, “Swan! What’re you doing here love? I wasn’t expecting to see you until lunch?”

Emma stepped surely toward the pirate, a grin on her face almost as bright as the one now stretching across Jones’ features. Taking his hand in hers, she dropped a kiss onto the corner of his mouth, lingering for a satisfied moment. 

“Henry said you were gonna grab a book and I thought I’d grab one too,” Emma said. “Which one did Belle suggest for your next meet up?”

“The Hobbit. Although, it seems strange to be reading it now having already read through the Lord of the Rings books, but it comes highly recommended.” Jones shifted closer to Emma, and further away from the computer, Lily noted absently. “And there’s talk of dragons in this book.” The pirate’s gaze shifted not so subtly to Lily and the computer and Lily silently cursed the man for clueing Emma in on why she was standing at the computer. 

“Is that right?” Emma answered him knowingly, green eyes shifting toward Lily. “Are there any other dragons I should know about? If there’s gonna be a family reunion involving dragons it might be good if the sheriff’s department knows about it beforehand.”

Lily should have taken their moment of greeting to close out of the search results she was still looking through. Or should have at least switched to a different set of results, but no, she still had the results page up from before and if Emma’s widening eyes were any indication than she had caught sight of it too. 

It didn’t help Lily’s sense of self any that Emma burst out laughing at the results. If anything, it made her more defensive and pissed her off. 

“Haha! I’m sorry Lily, I am, but it’s just… Hahaha! Mushu? Haha!”

Lily’s arms crossed in front of her, in a vain attempt at guarding herself. “Well la di dah,” She replied, sarcasm dripping from her lips. 

Emma’s laughter continued even as she worked to rein it in. “Lily, I know it’s- haha! I know it’s probably not him but the idea that… Hahaha! That your mom and a little snake guy voiced by Eddie Murphy…”

“Emma love, am I meant to know this Eddie Murphy bloke?” Jones asked in confusion. 

The laughter had finally subsided into a series of continued shakes of her shoulders, but Emma had managed to steady her voice enough to speak. “Not yet, Killian, but I think we need to educate you. Come on. I think you’ll wanna see this movie. Actually, Henry will probably wanna watch it again to…” She tugged on his hand, pulling him toward the door. 

“What about the book love?” He asked, worried. Lily didn’t think she had ever heard someone so genuinely concerned about not getting a book before. 

Emma waved aside his concern. “We’ll come back for it later, don’t worry.” She paused when they were most of the way toward the door. “Hey Lily,” Emma called out, pulling Lily’s attention from the traitorous computer screen. “Do you wanna…” Emma shrugged and trailed off, feet fidgeting and hand squeezing her boyfriend’s nervously. 

Some kind of silent understanding must have passed between Emma and Jones, because he picked up right where Emma had left off, filling the empty library with his lilted accent and Emma’s inquiry. “Would you like to come with, lass? If this moving picture is anything like the others I’ve been shown then it’s certain to be full of commentary from yours truly.”

Lily watched another shared look pass between the two, before she found two bright pairs of eyes trained on her. 

“Killian’s right. There’s not a lot that’s funnier than watching a cartoon about someone you met, except maybe watching that cartoon with another character,” Emma said, finding her voice again.

But Lily was hesitant. “I don’t know…”

“Please?” Emma asked in a small voice. 

That caught Lily off guard. In all the time she had known Emma Swan the blonde had never been small in her actions or words. Defensive and wary? Sure, but never small. This sudden smallness was vulnerable and partially open and Lily didn’t know how else to respond except to say “Ok.”

Emma’s smile was less bright than the one that had greeted Jones before, but it was deeper somehow, more relieved, and Lily tried not to read too much into it. 

They waited for Lily to close out of the Internet and start the long and tedious process of shutting down the computer. Lily decided to let the computer’s beeping and ringing fill the noiseless vacuum of the library as it turned off, not wanting to wait around to see if it actually shut down. Earlier the noise had annoyed her, but now, it didn’t bother her quite as much. 

She made her way slowly toward the door where Emma and Jones were still holding hands, and followed behind them as they left the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let it be known that Mushu is actually a favorite of mine. He's awesome and hilarious. Also, there's nothing canonical about Mushu existing in the OUAT universe or of Mulan ever mentioning him, but I thought it would be interesting to have.


	14. Fireworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little late for the 4th of July, but a happy Independence Day to all my American readers! And a happy upcoming Bastille Day to my French ones (Joyeaux quatorze Juillet!)! 
> 
> 4th of July light smut
> 
> Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it’s not mine.

“Remind me the purpose of these explosions, love.”

“Fireworks, Killian, they’re called fireworks. I thought they had these in the Enchanted Forest? I could’ve sworn Mulan said something about them…”

“Her kingdom uses gunpowder as a remedy, among other things. No, the gunpowder being shot into the sky in an array of colors, I understand. It’s their purpose tonight of all nights that I’m questioning. What is the significance of today’s date on their appearance?”

Emma tilted her head sideways to look at her pirate, taking in the red and gold light of sunset dancing across his skin as the sun finally dipped beyond the horizon, pulling the heat of the day with it as the night air took on its usual summer coolness. They had laid two small blankets out for themselves in the corner of the grassy field, clear enough from the trees to allow for an open view of the sky but just far enough from the other firework-watchers that they had a small bubble of privacy. Lying flat on their backs, side by side, Emma silently admitted to herself that she was glad to have brought the small blankets instead of camping chairs. It meant not having to worry about getting a crick in her neck while watching the show, even if that also meant dealing with a ground that was surprisingly cold underneath her. 

“It’s part of the celebration. Today’s the Fourth of July,” She started to explain.

“I’ve learned the realm’s calendar, darling. Surely this isn’t a celebration of that?” Killian interrupted. 

Emma let out a chuckle as she tried to decide how best to summarize the history for him. “It’s a celebration of independence. The country that Storybrooke is in, it used to be a colony for another country, for a monarchy actually. And on this day about 240 years ago, they declared their independence from that monarchy.”

“Freedom from a life spent under a monarch’s thumb? Aye, I can understand that,” He said, his eyes turning thoughtful as he tensed slightly. “I assume there are a few more complicated and perhaps bloody details to the story than that? No monarchy I know of would take secession lying down.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong,” Emma replied, knowing where his thoughts had turned. “I don’t remember all the details of how the revolution got started and what led to what exactly, you’d have to read one of Henry’s textbooks for that, but I do know that it had nothing to do with a corrupt monarchy. If I’m remembering right there were issues about colonists not having a say in their own government, and being overtaxed, and a bunch of other things like that. There wasn’t bad blood forever though. Nowadays the countries are really good allies.”

Her words seemed to relax Killian a little, and she took his hand in hers where it lay between them, watching his shoulders visibly deflate in further relaxation. A breeze rolled through the field, bristling the short grass and sending a sudden chill through Emma, one that didn’t escape Killian’s notice.

“Are you cold?” He asked, his eyes turned to meet hers.

She shook her head. “It’s nothing. I’ll be fine,” She insisted.

“You’re shivering, love. That’s not nothing.” Killian glanced around a moment, before his eyes lit up in inspiration. “Perhaps a blanket for cover? Budge over, will you, Swan?”

Emma felt her eyebrows knit together in confusion and then understanding as he shifted toward her, lying down again to share the small blanket she laid on, and pulling his blanket over them. She was instantly surrounded by warmth from the cloth over her and the heat of Killian’s body directly next to her, and she sighed in contentment.

“Better?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Emma answered quietly, eyes shyly meeting his thoughtful gaze. 

His thoughtful look was replaced by a more curious stare, breaking the sudden heaviness of the air around them. “Wait a moment. You said 240 years ago? Then this country is-”

“Younger than you, old timer,” Emma teased, nudging his shoulder with hers. “And we’re not getting into that age thing again. There’s a lot of stuff that hasn’t been around as long as you have, countries included.”

Killian’s lips pressed together and flattened in a way that told Emma he wasn’t pleased with the idea but he was going to drop the topic for now. “So is there a reason we’ve left Storybrooke for these explosive celebrations?” He asked. 

“I’m pretty sure if anyone in Storybrooke saw fireworks they’d assume something magical was happening and that we had another crisis on our hands,” Emma deadpanned. “Do you wanna deal with tons of people panicking over nothing?”

“Fair point.”

The sun had set, the stars had come out to play, and Emma couldn’t have asked for more perfect fireworks weather. She had always liked fireworks. They were one of the few constants in her life growing up, as she moved between families and group homes. No matter where she went, fireworks on the Fourth of July were common everywhere in the USA. Each town and city brought it’s own flair and festive nature to the fireworks, but they all shared the same bright colors and echoing booms that resounded for miles around. And in the night’s darkness, crammed like sardines amongst townspeople all eager for a decent view of the show, a young Emma could pretend that she had gone to the fireworks with those other people instead of alone. 

This year, she had opted to make a happy memory out of those sad ones by bringing Killian along and granting them both some much needed quiet time outside of Storybrooke. 

“Oh! It’s starting!” Emma noticed, excitement rising as she spotted the firework workers and emergency crews scuttling into position. 

The first firework went off with a muffled boom, launching into the air and bursting open in a radiant display of blue and white. The crowd ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ at the sight, marveling at it the way they would if it were an exotic flower they had stumbled upon. The first several launches were spaced far apart, as though to give the audience time to adjust to the loud echo of each controlled explosion, warming them up for the show to come. 

Emma glanced at Killian out of the corner of her eye, eager to see what he thought of the display. His eyes were wide, mouth just barely open in awe. With every firework that went off, his eyes widened the slightest bit and his hand squeezed hers ever so slightly. She smiled; glad he seemed to be enjoying himself, and turned her attention back to the fireworks overhead. 

Another boom, another launch, and another explosion. Each firework that was launched into the air shined with such brilliance that it lit up the field below in a thousand splendid colors brighter than a thousand splendid suns. A gold firework in the sky washed the crowd in the gold Killian had once told Emma that her hair reminded him of, and a blue firework was a blue sun, bathing the world in the ocean Emma saw in Killian’s eyes. 

Every so often a new style of firework would be put into rotation. One opened like a small yellow flower but drooped down into a golden willow tree, it’s branches reaching for the ground in an effort to graze its surface before extinguishing. Another burst open like all the others as a flower with gleaming petals, but then burst again, the petals exploding into smaller flowers of their own that crackled through their short life. 

Emma had no idea how much time passed, and she barely registered Killian’s hand guiding both of their hands to rest on top of her thigh, gently stroking the muscle. Emma startled at that, and then relaxed as their combined hands crept up her leg. His fingers danced their way along the denim-covered skin, leaving her mouth open and her breathing to quicken. Killian brought their hands higher and higher up her thigh and then slid them back down toward her knee where he started, repeating the process all over again until she was a warm and pliant pile of mush. 

“Is this what you had in mind when you pulled the blanket over us?” Emma asked, voice mischievous and a little breathless. 

She heard him chuckle. “Perish the thought, darling. I saw you chilled before and sought to warm you as a gentleman would. This is merely a… Situational addendum. Though not an unwanted one, I hope?”

In response, Emma untangled their fingers from each other and held his wrist, guiding his hand higher along her inner thigh until it reached her clothed center. Killian groaned at the move, fingers pressing against her. 

“Eyes skyward, love. Wouldn’t want you to miss the show.” His words sent a curl of heat through her as her breath caught in her throat and he began to move.

Being touched like this allowed for all the sensations of being blindfolded, but without the darkness. With her eyes glued to the captivating fireworks above, Emma could only concentrate on Killian’s touch sending liquid fire through her. It was as though he were timing the deft movements of his fingers with the explosions above, pressing against her harder every time a particularly loud firework was set off. She fisted one hand into the fabric of his pants, needing to cling onto something solid to keep herself from floating away at the headiness of it all. 

The fireworks overhead continued to light up the field as bright as the daytime sun and briefly illuminated their hidden activities before plunging them back into the shadows of night. Emma had deliberately settled their blankets far enough from the crowd of people so that they wouldn’t be disturbed, knowing Killian preferred their private time to be exactly that, private, but there was still the very real possibility that they could be caught given their proximity to those other people and the increasing frequency of fireworks lighting the field. But the very idea of being caught heightened everything further for Emma, especially when Killian had only just begun to touch her more intimately. 

The heel of his hand pressed against her center, shooting sparks up and down her spine. Her legs fell open, giving him more access, and she was rewarded with a firmer press against the bundle of nerves and a finger sliding back toward her clothed slit, pushing in as far as the tough denim would allow. She thought should have been embarrassed that she was already wet and probably soaking through her jeans just from his initial touches, but couldn’t find it in her to care, not when he felt so good against her and was playing her like a finely tuned fiddle. 

“Mmm, Killian.” Her breaths came in pants against her lips, the tiny gasps quickly turning into moans with every stroke of his fingers. 

“Enjoying yourself love?” Emma could practically hear him smirking, even over the echoes of the fireworks above. Damn him, the man knew exactly what he was doing and exactly how much it was affecting her. And Emma didn’t want him to stop anytime soon. 

“Please, Killian.”

“Please what?” He teased. His fingers pulled away for a moment and she groaned at the loss. 

“I need you,” She breathed, the fingers of her left hand tightening on his pants. “Need more.” With her free hand she unbuttoned her jeans and unzipped them, grabbing his hand and pulling it toward the exposed skin. Emma heard his groan of approval and she sighed in relief as his fingers began to slide into her pants and beneath her underwear. The tight denim restricted his movements at first, but as his large hand made its way to her center she used her free hand to shove the fabric down her legs, granting him more access. When his fingers reached her soaked core he gave a deliberate swipe that had her gasping. 

“Gods above, Emma,” He sighed in wonder. “You’re soaked already. You really get off on this, don’t you, me having my wicked way with you out where anyone could catch us? Among a throng of people otherwise unaware?”

Emma could only whimper helplessly at his words, her hips lifting invitingly to try and bring his fingers back inside. 

He chuckled at her wordless plea. “Fear not, darling. You know I’ll not leave you high and dry.” 

Killian plunged two fingers deep inside her and Emma had to bite her lip from moaning too loudly. He set a deliberate and steady pace, matching the intensity of his thrusts with the fireworks overhead. Every burst of color that he sent shooting behind her eyes was matched by an even more colorful explosion in the sky above, magnifying the sensations of his touch a hundred times over. It was a new kind of erotic for Emma, and it had a coil of heat tightening further and further inside her, threatening her with blissful release if Killian would just let her slip beyond it. 

But every time she came close to toppling over her pirate’s thrusts would turn shallow, and she would be left moaning quietly in delicious frustration. 

“Ah ah, not so fast love,” He crooned, those sinful lips brushing against her ear. When she tried to lift her hips to meet his fingers he pulled them away farther, raising them to rub circles around her clit but never giving her the satisfaction of full contact. 

“Killian, please. I need- Oh fuck.”

“I know darling, but you’re such a temptation like this, laid out for me like a feast.” His lilted accent only added to the sensations, sending her closer to that golden peak of release without granting her reprieve. “I wish you could see yourself right now, that you could see how glorious you look with the sky in your eyes and your head thrown back in passionate abandon. You’re a sight to behold Emma.” 

“Oh, fuck yes,” Emma keened. 

The pace of his fingers suddenly jumped, thrusting in and out of her with almost reckless abandon and it was only when she allowed her eyes to focus on the fireworks that she realized the finale had started and they had nearly reached the end of the show. Had he really been toying with her and keeping her straddling the edge for so long?

“Finale,” She managed to choke out, not sure if he understood her meaning. Killian seemed to understand though, and the brutal pace of his fingers was soon matched by the press of his thumb against her clit. Emma almost wept in relief, knowing that the end was in sight and Killian would grant her release soon. 

Her free hand flew under her shirt, groping for her breast. She kneaded the soft flesh in time with the thrust of Killian’s fingers, eventually shoving the cup down to pinch and pull on the hardened peak. 

Killian growled at her eagerness. “That’s it beautiful, let me see you. Let me watch you fall apart for me.”

Emma came tumbling over the edge with his name on her lips, the fireworks behind her eyes lighting up brighter than the ones in the sky. The cries she couldn’t keep silent were drowned out by the medley of the finale, fireworks shooting up into the sky in a vibrant display of color and sound that lit up the field and everyone on it. Emma knew Killian was timing his relentless assault of her heat with the finale, because every time she thought he was about to let her come down, another round of fireworks would burst into the air and he would renew his efforts. She stayed riding high on her orgasm for what felt like forever before darkness finally overtook her. 

When she came back to awareness it was to the hard planes of Killian’s chest under her cheek and hands. She realized that he must have pulled her toward him in the aftermath, letting her use him as a pillow. The blanket still covered them, hiding her state of undress from the passing crowds of people now leaving the field with their own blankets and chairs. 

“Enjoy the fireworks, love?” He asked, a cocky grin spread across his face.   
Killian’s fingers smoothed their way up and down her back, the edges of them dipping into her muscles in a way that had her trembling and pliant all at once. 

“Immensely,” She replied, voice just a little hoarse. Killian’s grin only widened at the sound, and Emma half-heartedly slapped a hand against his chest at the expression, ducking her head under his chin. 

“There aren’t any more fireworks displays any time soon, are there?” Killian asked. Emma didn’t need to look at him to know his eyebrows were probably waggling suggestively, and she smiled to herself. 

“Well, we might have to go to France for it, but Bastille Day is coming up soon.”


	15. Travel Blogs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quickie. Because there’s no actual interaction between Killian and August on the show, and I think they’d be nifty drinking buddies. Yes, ‘nifty’. 
> 
> Also, apologies on the radio silence. The mountains were calling and I needed to answer before my wilderness permits expired. Sometimes getting far away from a wifi signal is great, but admittedly I’m glad to be back in range.

“I’m telling you it’d be great!”

“And I’m telling you that I’ve no bloody idea what you’re on about!”

August watched the pirate take a large gulp of his beer, wondering not for the first time at the man’s extensive alcohol tolerance. If August were nursing his sixth beer of the night he’d be looking for a pitcher of water to save himself from a hellish hangover the next day, not playing a very close game of darts against one of the Merry Men. But for all the time August had spent in bars over the years, he would likely never match the tolerance of a three hundred year old pirate, so the writer limited himself to a third and final beer, and let the booze loosen his tongue enough to brave a proposition to one Killian Jones.

“Look, all I’m saying is that you’ve probably collected a lot of stories over the years. Why not write them down?” August asked, holding the pirate’s beer for him as the man landed yet another shot on the bull’s eye, much to his opponent’s dismay. 

Hook laughed. “A record of my travels is hardly an innovative thought. I’ve done that for centuries. Any decent sailor keeps a log of their whereabouts and happenings whilst at sea.”

“And you don’t wanna share those with people? Not even those exaggerated stories you tell that everyone knows never actually happened?”

Killian twisted his face to him then, stormy blue eyes darkening in accusation. “Whose to say they never happened? As you’re all so fond of reminding me, I’ve been privy to a well-extended life. My eyes have gazed upon wonders beyond your comprehension, boy.” The pirate never did seem able to resist bringing up his recent age-change, August thought. 

“Bullshit, you love an audience. We’ve all seen you drunk and sitting on this bar sharing all your greatest imaginary hits. Maybe your memory’s a little fuzzy from the tequila you and Emma were drinking that night, but last week you were telling everyone in the Rabbit Hole about how you fought off a kraken with a magic amulet and some MacGyver-ism of a spear made of your hook and a crewman’s wooden leg.” 

“MacGyver-ism…? You dare doubt my word?”

“By the end of your story your homemade spear was made of a crewman’s actual leg and a parrot beak instead,” August challenged.

Killian’s cheeks flushed a dark red and he visibly fought against a wave of laughter that threatened to bubble out of him. August watched him stumble a little over his feet in amusement at his own story, the only real signs he had been drinking at all.

“Continuity’s a bitch, huh, Hook? If it makes you feel any better though, I think Emma had a great time laughing about it.” Hook shrugged in agreement, the corners of his mouth tipping a little more upward. “But seriously, a blog could be a great start for sharing your stories and getting them out there.”

Hook waved his namesake in the air helplessly; still waiting for the Merry Man whose name August had forgotten to finish his turn at the dartboard. “And you’ve lost me again. What in the bloody hell is a blog?”

“A web log, blog for short. It’s a log that you write on the Internet where lots of people can see it, and you update it every so often with new stories.” August narrowed his eyes in question. “Emma’s explained the Internet to you, right?”

“The lad and Belle both did. The magic box is hardly a worthwhile pursuit,” Hook bit out, sounding just a little offended. “Who would want to share their private thoughts in such a public manner anyhow?”

August didn’t fight the snort that escaped him, but did stop short of revealing the realm’s need to update the world on their day-to-day activities. “This would be a travel blog. Not a personal one. Don’t worry, you won’t have to tell the world whether you’re a Coke or Pepsi guy.”

If Killian didn’t understand the difference between Coke and Pepsi, he didn’t call attention to it. The Merry Man stepped aside and waited for Hook to step forward. Hook took aim at the board, flicking his wrist and landing the dart just next to his opponent’s outside of the center ring. He flattened his lips in annoyance at his failed shot. “A travel blog?”

“A fake travel blog, actually. People in this world will assume it’s fake, because it’ll have creatures and characters in it that they’ve always thought of as fantastical and imaginary, like dragons and mermaids and-”

“Mermaids are no laughing matter, boy. I’ve lost many a good crewman to their wiles,” Hook said, whirling on August with a threatening finger pointed between them. From behind them, August thought he heard the red-capped Smee call out a ‘here here!’ in agreement with his captain. He also thought he saw the shorter man pour out a portion of his drink onto the floor while muttering something. 

“Duly noted,” August replied, unperturbed by the pirate’s worries and gently moving the threatening finger aside. “But stories like that are entertaining and I think people would like them.”

Killian looked unconvinced, but pressed on with his next question. “Enlighten me, what would I gain from sharing my history with perfect strangers?”

“A chance to show off on the biggest stage in existence in any realm?” August answered knowingly, taking a drink from his beer. 

“Hmm, oddly tempting, but I’ll have to pass. The only people I’d have enjoying my stories are in this town,” Killian answered, fingers stroking his chin in thought. 

August wasn’t ready to let go yet though, sure he could convince the pirate of his idea. “Think of it this way then. It’d be a way to legally make money without having to leave Storybrooke, and you wouldn’t even have to tell the whole truth in your stories if you didn’t want to. Just change a few details and names if it makes you more comfortable.”

Killian watched the Merry Man take his time lining up his shot. “So I’d be lying about my own history.”

“Professionally, yes.”

“And this is what you do for work in this realm? Lie professionally?” Hook asked, one eyebrow quirked up in challenge. 

August fidgeted on his feet, just a little uncomfortable now. “Ok, I prefer the term storyteller or writer. But I guess technically that makes me a professional liar by my own definition, so good job fate, because the kid who couldn’t lie is now a pro. Fate has a funny way of working out like that, even from realms away. But seriously, you’ve got centuries of stories, and I’ve still got a buddy in publishing that I know would love to get in on them. You start the blog, get a small following, show that people are interested, and then you start selling books of stories.”

“And this earns me currency in this realm? How would I retrieve this currency? Make an annual pilgrimage over the town line?”

“Eventually it’ll get you money, yeah, but like I said, you gotta build a fan base first. And all the money exchanges could be done online too, so everything’s over the Internet and you wouldn’t have to leave town. That magic box is looking pretty good now, huh?” August told him. “And if nothing else, it’d be a cool way to collect all your stories for everyone in town to enjoy too.” 

Hook stared distantly straight through his beer, lost in the torrent of thoughts no doubt swarming through his head. His opponent had finished his turn and was calling for the pirate’s attention. Killian straightened and put his beer down, picking up a dart and tossing it haphazardly toward the board. The projectile only barely stuck on the edge of the center ring, well away from the Merry Man’s more centered dart. August had stopped keeping track of the game points but he was pretty sure that right now the pirate was losing, even if he didn’t seem too broken up about it. August was sure it meant he had almost gotten through to the pirate with his idea. 

“Even you can’t live off old treasure haunts forever Killian, no matter how many doubloons you have hidden away.” August watched as Hook’s gaze drifted to where Emma was standing at the other end of the bar, caught up in conversation with Ruby and Victor. The pirate’s eyes stayed trained on the blonde as he absently twisted a ring on his finger. Finally, he turned back to August, an ambitious gleam in his eyes and a determined set to his jaw. 

“This friend of yours, you’ve spoken of me to him?”

August smiled, happy for the pirate’s genuine interest. “Mentioned in passing, more like, but yeah. And he was very interested.”

Killian’s mouth turned upward into a grin. “How do you suggest we start, mate?”


	16. Mermaids

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been forever since I updated this collection, and I apologize. I was traveling to visit family. In my travels, I came upon a certain coffee shop chain and it’s highly recognizable logo, as well as a very well informed history buff in line in front of me who filled me in on the origins of said logo. Naturally, my brain went here with Killian’s reaction. 
> 
> Timeframe isn’t essential to this one, but for clarity’s sake let’s say it’s at the start of 3b? When Emma is driving Henry and Killian back to Storybrooke from New York?

“Swan, that’s obscene.” The sheer disgust in Hook’s voice made Emma stop short on the sidewalk. She turned back to him to see his eyes narrowed and locked upward several steps behind her. 

“What is?”

“That!” Hook gestured to the green and white sign hanging over the doorway to the coffee shop that was Emma’s current destination. After the day she’d had so far, regaining her memories, finding out her now-ex boyfriend Walsh was a monkey minion, and packing up her still-oblivious son to drive back to Storybrooke with Captain Hook, she needed the caffeinated and sugary boost of an over-priced coffee contraption.

“The Starbucks sign? Seriously? I know you’re not the biggest fan of mermaids but still,” Emma said, a little confused at the pirate’s over reaction to a coffee sign. He’d insisted on coming along with her for this pit stop, and she’d decided it wasn’t worth the fight to argue with him. Now though, Emma wasn’t sure if she shouldn’t have left him in the car with Henry and the comic books instead. 

Killian shook his head in blatant disagreement and followed her forward. “That’s not a mermaid, lass, that’s a sailors depraved wet dream on full public display.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a little over dramatic?” She asked, queuing up just outside the door. Emma twisted her mouth in annoyance, wondering just how long the line inside was and if her need for caffeine was really worth the wait. 

“Absolutely not. And you said these were in every city across this realm?” He asked in disbelief.

Emma shrugged, pushing the door open to finally stand just inside as the line moved forward minimally. “More or less. And there’s usually more than a few of them every couple of blocks. Starbucks is kind of hard to avoid in some places. Now why is it bothering you so much?” Killian’s face went a shade of red Emma never thought she would see on the man. “Hook?”

“The tails…” He said nervously, glancing between Emma and another copy of the logo hanging on the wall. 

“What about them?”

“There are two of them.” He was being evasive on purpose. What was so bad that he couldn’t just come right out and say? If Emma didn’t know any better, she would almost say the man looked embarrassed. 

“Yeah, there are,” She stated, obviously. “I think the logo would’ve looked a little lopsided if they only had a regular one-tailed mermaid on there.”

“It would certainly be more accurate,” Killian mumbled. 

Emma fought the urge to roll her eyes, both at the pirate and the sight of a single open cash register at the front of the line, manned by a lone cashier and a trainee. Apparently their coffee stop wasn’t going to be as fast as Emma wanted. “It’s a logo, Hook, it’s not supposed to be accurate, just memorable so it can sell stuff.” 

Hook followed closely behind her as the line moved forwards a few inches. “Well it’s a comfort to know some things are common between the realms and that sex sells as easily here as it does in the Enchanted Forest.”

That made Emma pause again and she turned to look at him. “Wait, back up, sex?”

The pirate looked caught, and his mouth thinned in resignation. “Two tails, Swan. The mermaid on that logo has two tails that are rather akin to legs, and what lies between a woman’s legs that a sailor would have no hope of having whilst at sea?” He informed her, suddenly much chattier than before. 

It took only a moment for his words and the mental image to sink in and she shivered a little in disgust. “Seriously? That can’t be real. We saw mermaids in Neverland! They tried to kill us and none of them had two tails!”

“And they never will. Mermaids don’t split their tails. I told you it was a wet dream and a fantasy of ship-locked sailors.”

Emma shook her head slowly. “I’m definitely not gonna look at that mermaid sign the same way. Maybe I should start going to Dunkin Donuts instead…”

“Dunking what?”

Emma looked at the line ahead of them, eyeing the endless flow of people with annoyance when she realized the line had hardly moved at all despite their progress. “You know what? Yeah, we’re going to Dunkin Donuts instead. I just need coffee. I can go without the fancy creamers and syrups, and Henry’s just gonna have to live with a good old fashioned bear claw instead. I doubt he’ll be too upset about that.” She turned around and left through the door they had only just entered, grabbing Killian by his coat and dragging him with her. 

Walking back into the brisk air Emma caught sight once again of the two-tailed mermaid logo and shivered, when a thought came to her. She glanced at Hook, who was looking at her with his normal hope and caution, the usual sparkle of his too-blue eyes holding her captive for a moment. Had Hook had that sort of wet dream about her?

“Swan?”

Emma shook those thoughts away and kept walking, very aware of the blush now dusting her cheeks but only half aware of her hand still holding his jacket as she tugged him along the sidewalk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. The next chapter of Tattoo is coming. It’s just being decidedly uncooperative.


	17. Testing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thought that occurred to me a while ago about Hook’s past liaisons…
> 
> Mildly hurt/comfort but with an ending that moves toward cheerier.

The first time they slept together Emma had Killian wear a condom, and she was surprised that his first thoughts on the modern convenience weren’t about pregnancy. 

“I assure you, Swan, I’m quite clean,” Killian joked, flat on his back and staring up at Emma’s nude form from the slim bed in the Jolly Roger’s cabin.

Emma slithered her way down his body until she was eye-level with his hardened cock. “It’s just until I finally get you to go to that doctor’s appointment for a physical,” She told him. “And besides, it’s not just for stopping diseases. I love Henry, but I’m not planning on giving him a sibling just yet.”

Killian’s face shifted oddly at her words, but before she could comment on it he inched his hips upward, pulling her attention south. She grinned and rolled the condom onto his length with her mouth, a trick that earned her murmurs of praise from the pirate beneath her. Soon enough she was bouncing on his lap, his thick length hot and heavy inside her, sending them both over the edge again and again, and it forced her concerns about his earlier odd look far from her mind.

Their couplings after that were unfortunately few and far between, to Emma’s great frustration, with the constant stream of villains and crises around town keeping them from doing much more than get hands-y with one another. It led to one too many close calls, and while Emma was all for the thrill of being nearly caught, she had no desire to actually be caught with Killian’s head between her thighs in the sheriff’s station, particularly by her parents. 

It was bad enough Mary Margaret and David had nearly caught her and the pirate in the back alley behind Granny’s, even if that was just a heavy make-out session and relatively tame compared to some of the things they had gotten up to already. She didn’t want to scar them or herself with any further, less clothed, encounters. 

It wasn’t until Killian was brought back from the underworld that he finally found the time to get a physical, and was given the medical all clear by Dr. Whale. Emma was clean and still on birth control, so she decided that given the current lack of a crisis in Storybrooke, now was as good a time as any to start having sex sans condom with Killian. It was a big enough step in their relationship that she felt a private celebration was in order, so she swiped a bottle of rum from the Rabbit Hole and had Killian meet her in his cabin on the Jolly Roger; somewhere she knew they would be able to spend some quality time alone. 

When he stepped off the ladder his surprise at her appearance quickly gave way to a sinful heat in his gaze that melted her, as it always did when she met him wearing something sheer and lacy and modern. Emma explained the situation to him quickly enough, how their mutually clean bills of health and her birth control meant they wouldn’t need to use condoms anymore, and was surprised to find that odd expression back on his face. The one that was hiding something but eager to move past it because it was something he didn’t think she would want to hear. 

“Killian? What is it?” Emma asked.

In lieu of responding, Killian shook his head free of the odd expression and pulled her to him with his hook. He easily distracted her the rest of the night with the heat of his kisses and scorching trail of his hand on her skin. He left her thigh-high stockings and garters on, and pulled her new bustier down enough to expose her peaked nipples to his hungry gaze and hungrier mouth. He was everywhere at once; bringing her to orgasm several times with his hands and mouth so that by the time they tumbled onto the bed beneath them Emma was little more than an incoherent pile of want needing him to fill her, a task he readily complied with at her insistence. 

In the miraculously peaceful days that followed Killian was as attentive a lover as Emma could ever want, giving her exactly what she asked for and still managing to surprise her with things she hadn’t known she wanted. But his odd expression remained at the forefront of her mind and her concerns over its continued appearance grew. It wasn’t until she and Killian were babysitting her brother at the loft one evening that she told him of her concerns about his odd expression. 

“It’s nothing, Swan,” He insisted, redoubling his focus on keeping Neal entertained with a floating toy horse galloping across an invisible rainbow over the infant’s head. 

Seeing him so intent on her baby brother always left a warm and fuzzy feeling inside Emma. It wasn’t a feeling that had anything to do with possibly, maybe, someday raising a kid with Killian, but it was a feeling that had everything to do with knowing just how far Killian had come since they’d met. He would always be a pirate, but he wasn’t the villainous Captain Hook anymore. He was Killian Jones, and Killian Jones was a good man who deserved a happy ending. Knowing that Killian had moved past his centuries long quest for vengeance and seeing him embrace the future with her and her family always brought a smile to her face. 

“I think you’d make a good dad,” Emma told him, walking back into the living room from the kitchen with a bottle of formula. 

“You already make a good mother,” He countered with a smile, watching her pick up her brother and settle on the couch to feed Neal. His smile faded sadly as he added, “I don’t think fatherhood is in the cards for me, love.”

Emma’s gaze was still glued to her brother, encouraging him to keep the bottle in his mouth, as she asked, “Why not? Henry likes you and Neal’s always happy to see you.”

Killian’s eyes found their way toward Neal’s cherubic features, and an unbidden longing came over him. His next words came out as a whisper. “Do you hope for another child, Swan? Someday?”

“I wasn’t planning on it. But it’s not something I’m ruling out,” Emma answered honestly, turning to him in question. “Do you want kids someday?”

Killian shifted awkwardly at her words. “I should have told you this earlier, and I apologize for my cowardice on the subject. But you’ll need to look elsewhere for a father to any future children.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed at him. “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t have children, Swan.”

Emma could only stare at him, her lips barely open. Her thoughts flew away and left her mind empty and dazed except to vaguely realize that his odd expressions at her talk of birth control and condoms had been because of this. 

“Killian…” I’m sorry, she wanted to say. I’m so, so, sorry. “I’m-I mean, how do you know?”

He was quiet for several moments, and Emma could see his thoughts struggling to find order. From where he sat on the living room floor, leaning heavily against the foot of the couch, his fingers picked at the carpet underneath him as he spoke. “Much of my 300 years was spent in Neverland, but a great deal of it was also spent traveling between ports, taverns, and various… beds… Not once in all those years was there ever a lass that came to me claiming to be with child. I took precautions in my affairs, yes, but 300 years is a bloody long time and I’m rather doubtful in my ability to have avoided such a development for so long.” 

Emma struggled to find her thoughts, some words, anything that she could say to him. Instead of the comforting words she wanted to share with him, she asked a question instead. “But those were one time things, what about someone you knew for longer-”

“Milah was never with child while we were together,” He interrupted, voice only just pained. “And there were plenty of times when her moon tea ran out and we still…” Emma didn’t have to know exactly what moon tea was to have an idea of what it was used for. Killian’s context was implication enough. 

Silence enveloped them once again and Emma sat frozen on the sofa as she looked at Killian still sitting on the carpet, at the sullen air that grew around him. She wanted to wrap him up in her arms and her love and just hold him close. She wanted to soothe him with her words, tell him that this didn’t change things between them and she still loved him and was glad he told her. 

There was so much she wanted to say to him, so much she wanted to do. But all of it involved confronting feelings and being emotionally open and that was something Emma Swan failed at spectacularly. She’d never been good with feelings and she’d never been good with consoling people in times of distress. Killian was always the more comforting of the two of them. Emma was terrible at sitting down and just letting someone cry on her shoulder, not that Killian’s eyes looked ready to unleash a proverbial Niagara Falls. He looked guilty and forlorn, more than anything. Guilty for not being able to provide something Emma might or might not have wanted, because if there was one thing Killian Jones had made clear to her, it was that Emma’s happiness was his priority. If he thought a child would make her happy, then it was the one thing he couldn’t provide, which in his mind meant he had already failed her. 

Except that he hadn’t failed her. They hadn’t even tried. Pregnancy just wasn’t on Emma’s radar and she didn’t think it would be for some time, but if Killian was already beating himself up this badly about it…

A thought came to Emma as she considered Killian, his hook absently joining his fingers in tracing the carpet and resolutely avoiding her inquisitive gaze. “Do you want children?” Emma finally asked, breaking the silence.

Killian’s head shot up in surprise at her question, staring at her in confusion. “Emma, I can’t-”

“Do you want children someday? A family?”

“Yes,” He admitted. “Probably because a family is the one thing I didn’t think I could ever have after losing Liam. But you should know Swan that I consider being accepted into your life as family enough. Gods know you’ve enough family to go around,” He tried to joke. The smile didn’t reach his eyes and fell away quickly, along with his gaze dropping back to the carpet. 

“I think it’s time I introduced you to another modern marvel,” Emma decided. “We’re gonna see the doctor.”

Killian’s confusion bled through his souring mood. “I thought I’d already seen the bloody doctor? That Whale fellow?” 

“This is a special kind of doctor. There are other doctors in this town besides Frankenstein. Now what do you know about fertility tests?”

Several sexually and alcoholically dry weeks later Emma brought Killian to a fertility clinic inside the hospital. It was run by several doctors and nurses that were all midwives and nursemaids back in the Enchanted Forest, several of whom claimed to have been present for Snow’s pregnancy with Emma before the dark curse. 

“Lots of us thought you were going to be a boy, since you’re mother’s bump was so high,” Dr. Laiche explained in her office during their appointment, to Emma’s embarrassment and Killian’s amusement. “We had a pool going on, you see, concerning your name. I had three gold pieces on you being a boy named Leopold, after the late king, but here we are now, you a lovely woman named Emma and me three gold coins poorer.”

“So about those fertility tests?” Emma interrupted. Killian’s snickering had quieted but his lips were pressed thin in continued laughter. Emma didn’t entirely mind his amusement at her expense, she was mostly glad he didn’t appear too outwardly nervous. 

Dr. Laiche’s eyes widened in remembrance and her hands moved in a flurry, opening and shutting desk drawers and rising to repeat the procedure with several cabinets around the office. “Oh! Yes, yes, yes! The tests for the Captain! One minute please.” The doctor swept out of the office leaving Emma and Killian sitting in their seats stupefied and blinking at the woman’s haste. 

Killian turned to Emma in question, the mirth in his eyes suddenly swallowed by discomfort. She sighed. She should have realized he’d be putting up a mask for the doctor. 

“Swan, these tests you spoke of to examine my virility, they require a sample of my…” He glanced pointedly toward his crotch and Emma nodded. 

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Killian. If this makes you uncomfortable then we can go,” She told him, taking hold of his hand. 

He was quiet for several moments, and Emma wondered if he might decide not to go through with the fertility test after all. It wasn’t an invasive test, as far as she had been able to research. It was just an initial semen analysis, just a quick look under a microscope at a semen sample, but it might still be a little too much modernity for him to take in. 

“Let’s stay,” Killian finally said, surprising her. “Examinations such as these aren’t exactly practiced in the Enchanted Forest and who knows when we’ll next find ourselves with such uninterrupted time for luxuries like this? Besides, if we leave now that’s two whole weeks I went without ravishing you properly that’ll have been for naught.”

Emma smiled at him, and opened her mouth to say something when the doctor burst back into the office, wielding a plastic bag with a sterile sample cup and a small pile of paperwork. Dr. Laiche declared she needed several signatures and a semen sample, in that order, but not in the same room please. The paperwork was filled out and a befuddled and anxious looking Killian was sent with the sample cup and a wink to the bathroom down the hall. 

After leaving Dr. Laiche’s office that morning Killian cornered Emma against the side of her car. Emma recognized the hard crush of his body and insistent press of his lips as both a promise of more and a much-needed distraction for Killian from the emotional drain the day had likely been for him. 

“Been thinking about every way I’m going to have you once we get home, love,” He told her, lips worrying a mark into her collarbone as his hand squeezed her rear. Her hips surged forward into his at the contact. “Bending you forwards and backwards and ravaging you until your thoughts are overwhelmed with me.”

“That a promise, captain?” She challenged. Emma was met with a smoldering stare that spoke of retribution and she allowed herself a shiver in anticipation before hurrying them both into her car and speeding away. 

They didn’t leave Emma’s picket fenced house by the water until mid morning the next day when both of their stomachs demanded food and Killian’s phone demanded answering. 

“This is Jean at Dr. Laiche’s office. You’re test results are ready, if you’d like to come by today to discuss them?” The receptionist chirped cheerfully.

“I thought this was meant to take several days? Are you quite certain your lot actually ran all of the tests they were meant to?” Killian questioned, a look of uncertainty and dread coming over him. Emma reached over and wrapped her arm around his waist, tucking her head on his shoulder. She felt the tension leave him at the contact and he returned the half hug with his hook arm around her. 

Emma could hear the receptionist chuckle on the other end of the line. “Quite certain, sir. When would you like to come in?”

Several hours later, after making an appearance at Granny’s for brunch, Emma and Killian were shuttled back into Dr. Laiche’s office, where the doctor in question was already flipping through a folder of the test results, fingers flying between pages as she muttered to herself. Killian and Emma had only just taken their seats when Dr. Laiche gave a triumphant ‘Aha!’ and pulled a single sheet from the pile. “Ah, yes, yes, yes! Here we go! Now, do remember that these are only preliminary results and aren’t entirely conclusive, so ideally more tests would be needed if-”

“But they’ll tell us enough, aye? We’ll know for certain whether or not I’m…” Killian interrupted, trailing off toward the end. Emma’s hand was already wrapped around his and she squeezed his fingers in comfort. 

“In this case, probably.” Dr. Laiche shrugged. “The initial results show normal semen volume levels, normal liquefaction time, and no signs of infection.”

“That’s good then,” Emma started to say. But the doctor wasn’t done. 

“However, the sperm count is very low, about a million spermatozoa per milliliter.”

“What’s it supposed to be?” Killian questioned. 

“Twenty million per milliliter,” The doctor explained easily, as though she were commenting on the weather and not the potential fertility of a patient. Emma glanced at Killian and watched, disheartened, as the shadows in his eyes darkened, a weary haze coming over his features. She could practically see the thoughts marching through his mind, thoughts of further guilt, of disappointment. And they only worsened as the doctor continued. “And of the sperm that are present a number of them are abnormally shaped, with two tails or shortened tails.”

Killian sighed in defeat. “I know what you’re saying lass. There aren’t enough fit soldiers marching on the hill to take the castle, so to speak?” 

Dr. Laiche blinked oddly at Killian’s downcast demeanor, and Emma began to wonder if the doctor knew something they didn’t. “Well, in a manner of speaking, but I would need to see another sample to be sure.”

“Another sample,” Killian muttered, glancing down at his pants. After a brief awkward silence, his face twisted uncomfortably as he asked, “Am I meant to use that bathroom again?”

Dr. Laiche sprang back in her seat, shaking her head vehemently. “Oh! No, no, no. You need to wait three months before we take another sample!”

“Pardon?”

“That’s about how long it takes a new generation of sperm to develop. For all we know this particular sample was an anomaly, but we need a second sample to be sure,” The doctor explained. 

Emma felt more than she saw Killian’s growing frustration with the doctor, and kept a hold of his hand in reassurance. “Bloody hell, just tell me I can’t sire children and be done with it. Don’t leave a man in limbo.”

Dr. Laiche blinked once again at him. “But you’re not infertile, Captain.”

“I’m not?” He asked. 

“He’s not?” Emma asked at the same time.

“He’s not,” The doctor said. She added with a shrug, “The chances of you fathering a child in the traditional manner are very slim, but not impossible, based on the results from this sample. And there are plenty of other non-traditional ways to conceive as well.”

It was Killian’s turn to blink dumbly, and Emma watched as a strange lightness broke through the dark haze in Killian’s eyes. “I… You’re certain?” 

“Of your ability to father children? Yes. But of the biological cause for it, I couldn’t really say. It could be genetic, or it could be a side effect of something you picked up years ago, or it could be lifestyle choices such as frequency of drinking and elevated stress levels. Heck, it could even be magic-based. We would need to run more in-depth tests to find out.”

“Wait, seriously? Magic and fertility?” Emma questioned. 

Dr. Laiche turned to her, an excited gleam in her features. “Oh, yes, yes, yes, it’s a fascinating bit of research we’ve started! We’ve been working with several other specialists in the hospital to study how magic affects health. The captain is a rare example of someone who has traveled to multiple realms and been exposed to all kinds of magic, especially magic that affects the aging process. It might also have affected his ability to have children. I wouldn’t be surprised if those Lost Boys that came here from Neverland are affected in some way too. But only time and some well-recorded data will tell.”

Killian shook himself from his lightened daze enough to ask, “You mentioned something before, about conceiving traditionally and otherwise? Unless there’s magic involved what ‘otherwise’ is there?”

“Well there’s no need to jump right into the non-traditional methods if you’ve only just started trying for a baby,” The doctor explained, rushing forward before Emma could interrupt that they weren’t actually trying to get pregnant yet. “But if you do decide the non-traditional route is the one for you, there’s always in vitro fertilization, or IUI, or ICSI, among other methods.” 

“And what, pray tell, does that mean?” Killian questioned. 

“It means we have options, and that we can make the family a bit bigger if you want,” Emma said, hand wrapped around his and fingers rubbing reassuringly over his skin. She offered him a small smile, one that he slowly returned, the haunting in his eyes lifting a little more. 

Killian snorted, a sound of masked relief to Emma’s ears. “And they call this the land without magic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blame this one on my cousin and her husband’s attempts to get pregnant and being told it might take longer than they think it will, but it got me thinking about Hook’s lifestyle over the centuries and how we never hear of any children/accidental pregnancies. 300 years is a long time, and statistically speaking Hook should’ve had a baby mama somewhere along the way, even having spent a giant chunk of time in Neverland. Unless he never met up with the woman in question and she had the kid without him knowing, but idk. 
> 
> Read and Review!


	18. Video Camera

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff. All the fluff. Killian is very eager to use a video camera, but NOT in the way you think.

“You want to do what?” Emma asked.

“Renew our wedding vows,” Killian said. “Aboard the Jolly Roger.”

“Mary Margaret’s not going to be thrilled about the location,” Emma pointed out. She hadn’t nixed the idea though, which was a good sign. And Killian was adamant about doing things properly this time around. 

He speared the last slice of grapefruit off his breakfast plate, pointing it at her decisively. “Your mother got the wedding she wanted to see, I think it’s time we got the ceremony we want.”

Emma’s forehead crinkled adorably in confusion as she sipped her coffee. “I thought you liked what we ended up doing?”

“I loved marrying you. I loved seeing you walk down the aisle in that dress,” Killian told her honestly. “I liked the music. I liked that everyone had a good time while it lasted. But that brings me to my next point, love. It was rushed. It needed to be, we agreed on that before the curse hit, but a wedding is not the sort of occasion that ought to be rushed, impending curses or otherwise.”

“Well it wouldn’t be ‘us’ without a curse of some kind,” Emma said, rolling her eyes. They quickly narrowed in thought. “Rushing things like that really bothered you, didn’t it?”

“More of a missed opportunity than a regret, love. Although the end result is most certainly not a regret.” Killian quickly took her hand in his across the table, fingers running over the wedding band on her finger. When she shifted their hands to interlock their fingers and slipped him a smile, he continued. “But as there is currently no curse or villain or otherwise antagonistic force looming over our heads – with the exception perhaps, of your parent’s absolute doldrums-pace moving out of their apartment – we now have the time to plan a ceremony of our design. And to that end, there’s one thing I must insist on.”

“Killian, we don’t need to spend the nights before the wedding apart again. We’re already married, can’t we just sleep in the same bed like we do anyway?”

He quickly decided it would be more prudent to approach the topic of wedding traditions another time, and instead told Emma his true intentions. “A video camera.”

“A video camera?”

Removing his hand from hers, Killian stood to bring his dishes to the sink. “The latest Dark Curse crashed down on us all before we could even eat our cake or finish taking all the photographs your father wanted. Now, the photographs we managed to recover after the curse are wonderful, but having seen videos on the picture box I’d like it if we had one of those of our wedding, or at least of us renewing our vows.” 

“Wow, Killian, that’s… That’s really sweet.” Emma hid a smile behind her coffee. Her face had taken on that hopeful and scared look, the one that screamed with silent want but was too afraid to try and hold onto it for fear it would slip away like always. 

Killian decided to fix that. “Of course the curse even erased your lovely dress. Which is the real tragedy here, if I’m being honest, considering I never got to take it off of you afterwards.”

It worked, and Emma’s smile grew as she shook her head. “Oh, sure, that’s the real tragedy.”

Killian grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. “That and how I never got to carry you over the threshold to our bed that night. And it’s a bloody shame.”

“I’ll add it to the list of atrocities, Mr. Swan.”

“You be sure to do that, Mrs. Jones.” Killian leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve a video camera to inquire after.”

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

One night, nine months later, found Killian stretched out on the sofa in his and Emma’s home, the picture box flitting colorful images across it’s screen.

The creator of the video and owner of the camera had a remarkably steady hand, Killian noted in appreciation not for the first time. The sea had been lively that day and Killian had feared the images would be shaky and un-viewable. But Belle’s sea legs had surprised him and the end result was more breathtaking than Killian could have ever dreamed. He still wondered if magic was the source of the glow radiating from the display or whether it was his own love-struck bias draping a rosy gloss over the scenes. 

Thoughts of magic and mentally-induced rosy glazes disappeared when Swan came into view. He could easily recall every lace detail of Emma’s wedding gown; the sheerness of the top that allowed for tantalizing glimpses of skin beneath, the length of it and the surprising weight of it under his hand as they danced. He could do the same for the dress she wore as they renewed their vows; the sculpted dress of pale blue that reached her knees and left her shoulders temptingly bare. But to watch the scene unfold before him in such detail, every fold of fabric and escaped tress of hair captured in eternal unchanging glory-

Killian let out a content sigh. He would never tire of watching this video of his Swan float across the deck of the Jolly Roger to meet him at the stern. 

Belle had employed Henry with an additional video camera and combined the images of both devices in such a way that Emma gliding down the deck took up half the screen while his own enamored face filled the rest. He had never seen his face from the outside like this, whilst looking amorously upon his Swan. There was an honesty there he’d never realized, a vulnerability and yet a strength. It was an enlightening sight, to be sure, but was nothing compared to Emma’s smile on screen that grew with every step forward until it was toothy and true. 

“I love watching your face when you watch that video,” Emma’s voice interrupted the sweetness of the recording and Killian whipped around to see her standing in the hall. At the beauteous sight of her he decided that the rosy gloss from before must certainly be a product of his love-addled imagination. Her mouth was quirked upward, pleased at the sight of some beautiful secret known only to her. 

A similar grin stretched across Killian’s face. “And I prefer watching your face in the video.” He started to rise but Emma’s legs carried her to him on the sofa and she curled into his side. “You were gone for some time,” He said gently. 

Killian easily slid one arm around her as Emma’s arms wrapped around his waist. “I’m sorry I missed dinner,” Emma said. Killian pretended not to notice how tired she sounded. She’d probably had her guard up all the way home. “You worked so hard on it and I was really looking forward to it. The house smells delicious.”

“I’m told this is what refrigerators are for,” Killian said. “We can reheat the bird in the oven, if you’re hungry? Or perhaps save it for tomorrow with the pie. I trust all’s well again in Storybrooke now that Sheriff Swan has had her hand in things?”

Emma nodded against his shoulder. “Just tired. Used more magic than I thought I’d have to.”

“I didn’t realize Regina would need so much help putting away a drunk. I’d have come as well.”

“A drunk magic user,” Emma corrected him, rambling now. “And a total featherweight with his liqueur. Stupid drunk spells. From Oz, or Agrabah? Arendelle? Somewhere with a vowel.”

Killian hummed in acknowledgment. 

On screen, Killian and Emma had just said their ‘I do’s’ and were locked in a passionate kiss, to the applause of their loved ones. A flock of birds flew overhead, cawing at the crowd below, to the delight of everyone on board. 

“Like this part,” Emma whispered, curling tighter against him on the sofa. 

“Aye,” Killian agreed. “Me too.”

Their on-screen counterparts whispered to each other, too quietly for Belle’s camera to pick up, but Killian didn’t need the technology to remember what was said. 

‘Let’s go home, Killian,” Emma-onscreen said.

“As you wish,” Killian whispered in time with his onscreen counterpart.

Emma’s only response was to tighten her hands in his shirt.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Earn Your Dessert](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7181186) by [Madalena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madalena/pseuds/Madalena)




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